


The Jewel In My Fingers

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood, Blow Jobs, Cutting, Depression, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Medicinal Drug Use, Romance, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-15 19:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 48,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1316947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has spent almost five years completely numb. After his boyfriend Arthur went missing, Merlin was put on numerous medications, preventing him from feeling much of anything. But then one day he sees Arthur again, and even through the numbness he feels the warmth of their old love. Arthur, however, doesn't remember him at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Jewel In My Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [MerlinReverseBB](http://merlinreversebb.livejournal.com/), [digthewriter](http://digthewriter.livejournal.com/)'s [prompt 1045](http://i.imgur.com/c9sjRAA.jpg). This was one of the prompts I saw and immediately thought YES. I wish I could say it ended up being more angsty than I'd planned, but honestly I planned on it being this angsty the whole time. Because clearly I have a problem with torturing Merlin so Arthur can comfort him.
> 
> That being said, haha wow this fic gets depressing. And bloody. Kind of graphic-ish with the one cutting scene, I suppose? So, you know, avoid this if that isn't your thing.
> 
> Thanks to Dig for the great prompt and beta job :)

_I held a Jewel in my fingers –  
_ _And went to sleep –  
_ _The day was warm, and winds were prosy –  
_ _I said "'Twill keep" –_

 _I woke – and chid my honest fingers,  
_ _The Gem was gone –  
_ _And now, an Amethyst remembrance  
_ _Is all I own –_

_\- Emily Dickinson_

 

Merlin looked down at his cup of tea in his lap and stirred it again idly. There was too much milk but he wasn’t going to say anything. He had a feeling his mum did it on purpose, just to try to get a reaction out of him, because she knew exactly how he liked his tea and yet here it was, too milky and utterly undrinkable.

The two of them had been sat in quiet for almost five minutes now, and while that didn’t sound like a long period of time, it seemed to have dragged on endlessly for Merlin, who tried to avoid quiet moments at all costs. He put his tea down on the table with a sigh and picked up the gift he’d brought. It was poorly wrapped due to his usual lack of caring, but Gwen insisted he should at least try to make the effort of good presentation.

Merlin stretched his arm out over the coffee table, gift in hand. “Here,” he said. His mother didn’t take it at first, and the weight of it started to make his arm ache. He stared unblinkingly at her a few seconds until he couldn’t take the gaze, and lowered his eyes. “Happy birthday,” he murmured.

Her cup made a loud _cling_ ing sound as it came down on the table, and Merlin exhaled gratefully as she finally took the gift. He returned his hand to his lap and picked at the frayed edge of his black wristband as she tore the ribbon off.

“It’s an iPad,” Merlin said, not looking up.

“You’re not supposed to tell me before I open it.”

Merlin picked up his tea again, for lack of anything better to do, and nodded. He winced as the drink hit his tongue but forced himself to swallow.

“Thank you, Merlin,” she said half a minute later. “My friends have been yapping nonstop about all this new technology, telling me to give in and buy one of these things, and of course you’ll have to show me how to use it...”

She rambled on saying things Merlin didn’t hear. He picked at the edge of his wristband again, wanting to scratch the underside of his wrist but not wanting to risk letting any scars show. He noticed his fingernails were getting a bit long and he should clip them. He cracked his toes in his shoes and wiggled them, wondering if now was an appropriate moment to take them off because his feet were a bit sweaty.

In the back of his mind, he was annoyed with himself. He used to be able to do things like take his shoes off at his mum’s house with ease, and wouldn’t have worried about appropriateness or etiquette. It _was_ his mum, after all; she’d bathed him as an infant and probably didn’t care if he suddenly kicked his shoes off. Things were just so much more difficult and awkward now.

Merlin sighed and forced himself to look up, to smile and nod even if the words she was saying weren’t registering. He didn’t like smiling because it always felt fake and he knew it never reached his eyes. But Alator was always saying that one had to make an effort to be happy and smiling was the first step.

“Oh goodness, now it’s asking for a Wi-Fi network,” she said, frowning at the illuminated screen. “What is...Oh, what did that man say mine was called again? Merlin, could you...?”

Merlin got up from his chair and walked around the table to sit beside her on the sofa. His skin prickled from the proximity and he tried not to let it show, or to sit too rigidly.

Merlin took the iPad from her, careful not to let their fingers brush, and set it on his lap. “I’m guessing it’s the one that says Emrys-Wifi,” he said, trying not to sound too flat.

Hunith leaned in, peering at the screen. “That wasn’t showing up before.”

“You have to use your finger to scroll through the menu. Like this.” Honestly, she had to have swiped the bar across screen to unlock it the first time, how could she not know?

“Oh.”

It was tiring explaining it to her, not because it’s what he did every day at work, but because he had to keep trying to add some emotion to his voice, which he knew had a tendency to sound curt and unsympathetic. Eventually, however, she just started talking about her friends again, letting Merlin log into accounts and set up apps for her. Merlin was a little irritated—because how was she supposed to know what to do later if she didn’t watch now?—but in the end, it meant less talking and explaining on his part, so he let her just carry on.

“...poor woman had a miscarriage last week, and we’ve all been terribly worried about her. She’s not been herself since.”

Merlin hummed boredly. “She’s not too old to try again, is she?”

He only realised how still and silent his mother had gone after the quietness seeped into his brain and the lack of sound registered in his ears. He looked up and found his mum staring at him with wide, shocked eyes.

“What?”

Her eyes went from wide to narrow, her brows drawing together in an expression of hurt. She looked at him like she didn’t even recognise him.

 _Shit, what did I say?_ Merlin thought.

“How could you even think that way, Merlin?” she asked, breathy and quiet. “You _never_ would have said anything like that before... _before_.”

Merlin felt a sudden twist in his stomach that came and went as he expertly blocked out the image, numbing himself again.

“Sorry,” he said. He even pushed his own eyebrows together to show just how sorry he was. Though what he’d said wrong, he still wasn’t sure.

Hunith sighed and took the iPad from his lap. “Perhaps it’d be best if you went home now, Merlin. We’ve had a lovely time, but I just...can’t stand seeing you so different.”

“I’m not done configuring the settings.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine.”

Merlin glanced out the window. His train wouldn’t leave for another few hours and he’d planned on spending the entire day at his mum’s house. With nowhere to go, nothing to do, how would he occupy his mind now?

He stood wordlessly, picking up his coat from where he’d draped it across the chair, and shoved his arms inside. He wasn’t sad, or even upset—he was much too numbed for that—he was just irritated with himself for not being able to handle her better. If he didn’t talk, she got offended. If he did talk, he risked saying something stupid, and she still got offended. He may as well have shipped the gift and never came at all.

Merlin slung his rucksack over his shoulder and said, “Bye” as he walked out the door. By that point, he didn’t care if his voice was sharp or not.

♦ ♦ ♦

The first thing Merlin did, of course, was put his headphones in his ears and start playing his music. The second thing he did was look up the nearest cafe on his mobile, because he was going to have a decent cup of tea, he was going to take another Xanax, maybe two, and _then_ he’d figure out what to do with himself for the next few hours.

The walk was about a mile, but Merlin figured any time he spent walking was better than time spent sitting. And Alator was always encouraging exercise, which of course Merlin never got around to. He didn’t see the point, and walking in the bitter cold now certainly wasn’t making him want to change his habits either.

When he was finally sat at a table in a blessedly warm cafe, hot tea coursing down his throat, he let himself think about what he was going to do next. As he opened his rucksack and shook two pills out into his palm, he took note of where the bookmark was in the book he’d packed. He could sit and read it, but he was almost finished and needed to save it for the train. It was crucial that he avoid free time to let his thoughts wander.

Merlin decided to find a bookshop and buy another. Not only would it rid him of his free time now, but of any free time later should he not finish it. He swallowed down the Xanax and looked at his mobile again, searching for something close.

He was reluctant to leave the warmth of the cafe, but shoved his hands into his pockets, curling his fingers in to hold his thumbs, and pushed himself back out into the biting wind. According to the map on his mobile, the bookshop wasn’t far, just a few streets over. He’d be back inside soon, and then he could sit at the train station for the next few hours before going back home.

Merlin sighed.

He inhaled deeply when he walked into the shop. He had always liked books, but hadn’t taken as big an interest in them until after Lancelot suggested he take up a hobby. Merlin hadn’t really had any hobbies besides listening to music or using his computer in the first place, so he’d thrown himself into the only other thing he knew: books.

Walking further in, Merlin searched the categorised genres for an author he knew, not wanting to spend time reading summaries. He finally caught sight of a familiar name in the science fiction section, and trusted the author enough to provide something as enticing as the other stories, albeit poorly written at times. He plucked a random title off the shelf, glanced at the price, and turned on his heels to walk to the queue.

His stomach knotted up again when he saw a man at the front with the same colour hair as—as _him_. Merlin had thought after nearly five years he’d passed the stage where he was seeing him everywhere, but occasionally there was a sight or smell that stirred up remembrance. Merlin pushed the feeling down, willing himself back to numbness. The back of the head two metres in front of him had the same dark roots, the same patterned streaks of brighter blond, but was cut close at the nape of the neck and even spiked up a little at the top. There was no way it was—

Merlin stopped breathing, sure he was hallucinating. The man had turned to leave, purchases in hand, and Merlin would know that profile anywhere, could paint it with his eyes closed if he had the talent. But it couldn’t be. Here, in his mum’s city of all places? The chances were slim to none.

“Arthur?”

Merlin’s heart hadn’t raced in ages but it started pumping furiously when the man— _Arthur_ —looked up. Merlin only comprehended that he’d said Arthur’s name aloud when Arthur started looking around confused. When his eyes landed on Merlin, his brow furrowed a little more, and Merlin realised he was gaping.

Merlin still wasn’t breathing properly, but he forced himself to at least raise his hand in an awkwardly shy wave. As he did, the thoughts he’d never let himself think came flooding in. Arthur had left for a reason, had disappeared suddenly from everyone’s lives for a _purpose_ , and that purpose was obviously because he never wanted to see any of them again. In the span of two seconds, Merlin’s hopes had risen and fell, and he felt a powerful tug in his chest.

Arthur eyed him up and down warily, and Merlin felt more self-conscious about his appearance than he had in a while. As Arthur walked toward him, Merlin almost wished he’d never seen Arthur at all, if only to avoid the horrible rejection he was about to receive.

“Hi,” Arthur said, his lips stretching in a polite smile. “Have we met before?”

Merlin felt like he’d been shot in the chest. He’d never really understood the expression “world turned upside down,” but he did now. Was this some cruel joke? He’d seen Arthur naked, seen the face he made when he came, seen those eyes glittering in the sunlight and the laugh lines that appeared on the side of his mouth when he grinned broadly. He’d seen Arthur with his head on his chest, looking up at Merlin as though he’d created the entire universe for him, had heard Arthur’s voice when it was singing in the shower or saying he loved him. And now Arthur was asking if they’d ever met before?

“Okay, clearly we have, because you look just as confused as I am,” Arthur said. “But look, I’ve forgot loads of things, it’s not just you. If you used to be a mate of mine, I’m truly sorry.” Arthur stuck his hand out, offering a handshake.

Merlin was still too stunned to do much of anything but stare. When was the last time he’d actually shaken Arthur’s hand? He could barely remember a time when they didn’t greet each other with a hug or a kiss. Merlin was so overcome with emotion, his insides aching and pulsing with equal parts excitement and despair, he wanted to take another Xanax right there.

Then Arthur’s hand was slowly dropping and he was muttering, “Or not...” and the coherent part of Merlin’s brain kicked him into motion. He grabbed Arthur’s hand, nearly fainting from the feeling of actually _touching_ Arthur again, and put a smile on his face as he shook.

“Sorry, yes, we’ve met before,” Merlin said, speaking quickly. “We were very good friends, actually. What do you mean you’ve forgot loads of things?”

Arthur’s eyes had widened a bit at the force of Merlin’s shake and he looked down at their hands with unease. Merlin let go, realising it was probably awkward by now.

“I sort of, uh, lost my memory. It’s a long story.”

Merlin’s world tilted even more. _Amnesia!_ his brain screamed. _He didn’t come back because of amnesia! He didn’t stop loving me!_

The more realistic part of Merlin’s brain quickly reined him in. _Yes, but he’s forgot that he loves you, so where does that leave you now?_

It didn’t matter. Merlin had done it once, he could do it again. Already Arthur had pulled Merlin out of his numbness, now Merlin just had to make sure he didn’t slide back into the dark place that had come before the numbness. But with Arthur back in the picture, he didn’t think that’d be a problem. Maybe he could get Arthur to come back. Maybe he could help Arthur regain his memories and they could pick up where they left off.

“I know this is weird and sudden but could we go somewhere to catch up?” Merlin asked. He meant to say more but a man behind him cleared his throat, urging Merlin to move forward in the queue. Merlin took a few steps up, Arthur following.

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, contemplating. God, he looked so different with his hair so short, and he was four years older, his already chiselled features even more defined. And he still had all his old mannerisms, pursing his lips and rubbing his neck while he thought. Merlin could have giggled with happiness, but he suspected Arthur already thought him a bit mental.

“It’s rather late,” Arthur said. “Maybe some other time?”

Merlin tried to hide his disappointment. It wasn’t _that_ late, only about five in the evening. But his mind made plans to check into a hotel and miss his train, anything to stay and see Arthur again, _his_ Arthur.

“Alright, any time is fine with me,” Merlin replied, taking another few steps as the queue moved forward. “You can ring me and we’ll schedule something.”

Arthur looked uncertain for another moment and Merlin panicked, realising he may have seemed too keen. The first time around he’d certainly not been so hasty. Actually Merlin was pretty sure the first words he’d said to Arthur were an insult.

And then Merlin thought _oh God what if he found someone else?_

“I can try to help you remember some things,” Merlin continued when Arthur was taking much too long for his liking. “It’s just that we _were_ really good mates before and it was terrible when you suddenly disappeared. I’m not in the area for very long and I’d like to talk if possible.”

Arthur put a thumb and forefinger to his temples, rubbing in circles. “Ah, God, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’ve imagined meeting someone that knew me before so many times but I just never thought it’d actually happen, you know? It’s so weird since you’ve obviously still got this history with me and I have absolutely nothing, so it feels like I’m just jumping off a cliff with a stranger. And I’m always so paranoid that someone will _say_ they know me but are just trying to take advantage—”

“I’m not taking advantage, I swear!”

Arthur dropped his hand, snorting a little. “Yeah, I figured. You don’t strike me as the type who’s good at deception and you probably couldn’t physically overpower me even if you tried, considering you’re a skeleton.”

Merlin glanced down at himself and laughed. It wasn’t funny, not really, because Alator and all his friends had commented on his eating habits and appearance, but Arthur’s remark was so...so _Arthur_. It was just like how everything was before.

And then Merlin realised he’d just _laughed_. When was the last time that had happened?

Arthur sighed and took out his mobile. “Alright, I suppose you should give me your number, then.”

Merlin took the phone from him and dialled his number, letting it ring a few seconds before hanging up. He’d store Arthur’s number later, and he was already excited at the possibilities. He probably wouldn’t be able to convince Arthur to come back with him this visit, but if they talked enough and Merlin visited again, he could help Arthur get his memories back. If Arthur didn’t remember, they could just start over and it would be as brilliant as before.

“I’m free whenever, as I said,” Merlin repeated. “I’m only here a few days though, so—”

“No, I get it,” Arthur interrupted him. “I didn’t before, but it makes sense. Your mate disappears for a few years and you want to know what the hell he’s been up to. I’ll ring you tomorrow, but I am actually quite busy tonight.”

Merlin’s heart sank at that but he tried to hide it, asking what was on his mind in the form of a joke. “Hot date or something?”

Arthur laughed. “God no. I still only have a vague idea of who I am, no way am I ready for romance.”

Merlin chuckled, a little breathily from relief. Arthur’s second statement didn’t bother him; if anyone could give Arthur an idea of who he was, it was Merlin.

Merlin had got to the front of the queue by now, so Arthur said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, then, er...Sorry, what’s your name?”

Merlin put his book on the counter for the girl to scan and looked back at Arthur, smiling. “Merlin.”

For a second, Arthur’s brows drew together and Merlin hoped it was from recognition, or a flash of a memory. He wasn’t sure how amnesia worked exactly, but if just his name was enough...

However, it passed quickly. Arthur’s expression smoothed out and he smiled back, offering to shake Merlin’s hand again. Merlin took it without hesitation this time.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Merlin. Again.”

Merlin watched him go, staring at the exit long enough for the girl at the counter to clear her throat. Merlin blushed and pulled out his wallet, mumbling an apology as he paid for the book, but he was still smiling.

And he was still smiling as he got a cab.

And as he checked into a hotel.

And as he lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, letting his mind wander freely for the first time in four years.

♦ ♦ ♦

Merlin had taken his sleeping meds the night before, because he did still need a bit of help shutting off his brain, but as he held his other two bottles of pills in his hands the next morning, he stopped and thought.

 _Two capsules by mouth every morning_ , the one labelled Prozac declared. _Take no more than four times a day as needed_ , the Xanax told him. He’d been doing alright with the Prozac, and he’d been taking much more than four Xanax a day, to be honest, but maybe he didn’t need it anymore. If Arthur was back, if he was smiling and laughing again, then maybe...

Merlin put them down on the nightstand. He’d just see how today went. And anyways, he didn’t _feel_ like he needed to numb himself right now. He felt fine.

It was only after he showered that he remembered he hadn’t packed any spare clothes because he hadn’t planned on spending the night in the city. He was already spending money he didn’t have by staying in this hotel, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, and dressed in his clothes from the day before as he searched for a nearby shop on his mobile. It was Saturday and nearly noon, so the shopping district would be busy. He hoped he had enough time to find something to wear for the next few days before receiving Arthur’s call to meet up.

Merlin was walking into the closest clothing shop by the hotel when his mobile buzzed in his pocket. His heart beat excitedly as he pulled it out, but he knew it probably wasn’t Arthur, not this early. Merlin could hardly say he was surprised when he saw Will’s name on the screen.

“Hel—”

“Where the hell are you?!”

Merlin followed signs to the men’s section as he quickly thought up a lie. “My mum wanted me to stay a few more days because she needs help with...stuff.”

“Nice try. She’s the first person I rang when you didn’t come home last night.”

Merlin froze, right in the middle of the store, his stomach slowly making its way up to his throat. “Did you go by my place?”

He severely hoped Will hadn’t gone inside and already hated that Will had a key to begin with. But he’d been just as blank as always when he’d agreed to it, and if it got his friends off his back, made them feel better that they were able to come by and check on him just in case he tried to do anything like he did before, he hadn’t been about to say no.

“I did. And yes, I looked through your bathroom. Yes, I found your fucking _razor blades_ ,” Will growled.

Merlin swallowed thickly and made himself put one foot in front of the other, walking to a shelf of jeans. “Th-Those are from ages ago.” But even as he said it, raising his hand to look at the size on the jeans, he felt the skin beneath his left wristband itching more than ever.

“And the one I found under your pillow? I suppose that’s from ages ago as well.”

“Of course it is. I haven’t even _thought_ about doing that in...in months. A year, really.”

“Merlin—”

“I’ll be back on Thursday,” Merlin said quickly. “Wednesday night. I’m taking a train back Wednesday afternoon, so it’s just a few more days. I’ve got to go, Will, let Gwen and Lance know I’m fine.”

“I don’t even know if you _are_ fine or not, or where you are for that matter. And you sound...weird.”

Merlin wanted to bang his head against the shelf. After years of having no emotions, of course Will would pick up on the sudden change in Merlin’s voice.

“I promise, Will, if there was something seriously wrong with me, I’d tell you.”

“I’m pretty sure we have different ideas of what’s ‘seriously wrong’ and what’s not. Because lie all you like, but I know you’ve been cutting again and—”

“Will, I _really_ have to go now. Bye.”

Merlin ended the call with trembling fingers and slid his mobile back into his pocket. He had spared a passing thought earlier for his friends back home and how they’d worry, but he’d hoped—rather foolishly, he saw now—that he could simply tell them he was still with his mother or that everything was fine and they’d give him a few days’ space. But of course these _were_ his friends, and he _was_ Merlin, and nothing was ever fine with him, so no matter what he did, they’d want to know where he was, what he was doing. The only reason they’d let him leave the city to visit his mum at all was because they thought he needed a change in scenery.

It _was_ a bit unfair leaving them in the dark, but Merlin just knew they’d disapprove of his current actions. They’d tell him to come home and not to put himself in ‘emotional danger.’ They’d tell him to talk with Alator about it and try to go about things with more than a hastily put-together plan in mind.

But this was _Arthur_. Sure they’d all lost a friend that day four years ago, but Merlin had lost a lover, his other half, and they could never understand that. He’d been so broken and now he finally had a chance to be whole again. There was no way he was going to give that up.

Merlin finally gave in to the urge and stuck a finger underneath one of his wristbands, scratching the hidden scars. And really, it wasn’t like he cut often. Once a month, _maybe_ twice? It was never as deep as it had been the first time, years ago; nothing to worry anyone about. Just enough to pierce through the numbness and let some of the built up tension bleed out. Sometimes he’d be standing in his loo not even realising the blade had slipped to his wrist, not until the sting of pain drew the first droplets of blood from his skin.

It was lucky he’d worn wristbands and such before, so it wasn’t like his style had changed as a result of his actions. Only Will and Alator knew that the accesories actually had something to hide now, though they’d thought he’d stopped a couple years ago.

As he picked up a pair of dark blue skinny jeans that claimed to be his size, Merlin wondered how he’d hide it from Arthur. He wondered how he’d hide _all_ his problems from Arthur.

♦ ♦ ♦

It was still a bit of a shock seeing Arthur in the flesh after so many years. It wasn’t just the hardened jaw and short hair; it was the ease with which Arthur seemed to simply exist. At times, Merlin had thought Arthur more than just disappeared. He’d thought Arthur kidnapped, or dead. But there Arthur was, sitting at a table in the same cafe Merlin had ducked into before, as though he hadn’t just popped back into Merlin’s life out of nowhere. As if the fact that he _could_ sit and drink coffee and stare out the window at the miserable weather was completely normal.

Merlin had to take a few deep breaths before walking over, and idly wondered if he should have taken at least one Xanax after all.

“Hi,” Merlin said as he sat down. “Sorry if you’ve been waiting long, you said three o’clock...”

Arthur shrugged. “I live just down the street so it didn’t take me long to walk. It’s fine.” He took a sip of his coffee, tilting it back far enough that Merlin knew he was finishing it off, and the cup did make a hollow sound as he put it back down on the table. “So tell me. Where’d we meet? ‘Cause I never really pictured myself being friends with an emo bloke.”

Merlin chuckled and couldn’t help but keep smiling at how easy it was for Arthur to get him to laugh. He tried not to lunge across the table and throw his arms around him, figuring that would probably be ill-received.

He also tried not to say what was on the tip of his tongue, that Arthur had been a bit more than friends with this ‘emo bloke.’

What ended up coming out was, “Oh my God, you’re still an arse.”

Arthur looked a little taken aback at first, but then he started laughing, loud enough to draw a couple glances from other people in the cafe. Merlin grinned. The things that laugh did to his insides...He’d missed the feeling.

“Okay, but really. Where do I know you from? When’s the first time you saw me?” Arthur asked.

Even after all these years, Merlin could recall the memory with ease. Arthur had been much younger, rounder about the face like Merlin had been, leaning against a wall at a party and staring morosely into the crowd of dancing people as he drank from the clear cup filled with amber liquid. Merlin had been searching for someone fit to shag and had wanted Arthur the second he laid eyes on him, even if Arthur had at first appeared to have a shit personality.

“It was at a party,” Merlin said, casting his mind back. “A little over seven years ago now. We went to the same uni but never really saw each other until that party after graduating. We met there and sort of struck up a friendship.”

Merlin wanted to say that they had ended up fucking at that party, and had continued their casual sex for six months before becoming something more, but the way and order in which he revealed information was too important to just blurt out. He didn’t want to overwhelm Arthur.

Arthur nodded, his lips pursing with thought. “My latest memory before my accident is actually of something that happened in a university residence hall. I can remember some of the faces of my friends there and I remember my family, but I think the cutoff point is before uni ended.”

“What _is_ your last memory?” Merlin asked, curious. He wondered if Arthur knew why he’d got up to drive in the middle of the night in the first place, because that had always been something that haunted Merlin.

It seemed not. Arthur chuckled, a small smile playing on his lips. “Some girl slapped me because I’d told her I was gay and was through dating her to please my father. At least I didn’t have to try figuring _that_ part of myself out. But I’m not sure what year that was. For all I know it was—”

“Your last year,” Merlin supplied. “Five months before the party we met at.” Merlin felt a quick twist in his stomach again at the fact that Arthur had lost the entire two years they’d been together. All the kisses, the light touches, the early morning sex...

“Ah. Well. Good to know where that falls on my timeline, then,” Arthur said.

Merlin folded his arms on the table, leaning forward a bit. “You said you remember your family? Did you ever try to contact them again?”

Arthur lowered his eyes, frowning a little in the way that Merlin knew from experience was guilt. “I didn’t try to contact anybody, actually. The doctors—”

“What doctors? Were you badly hurt besides your head?” Merlin had more questions, but stopped himself.

Arthur looked back up, tilting his head a little. “Maybe I should start from the beginning. I sort of wanted to know what you could tell me about _me_ , but I guess I owe some sort of explanation before asking any favours.”

“Sure, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” After all, Merlin was the best source of information on Arthur that Arthur could get. “But yes, starting at the beginning would be nice.”

Arthur nodded once. “Right. I was in a car accident almost five years ago that left me with, well, a blank slate, essentially. I’d swerved on a sharp turn and flipped the car over a few times. My seatbelt kept me from receiving any fatal injuries but I did hit my head rather hard. When I woke up I didn’t know where or who I was. I had my wallet so I figured out my name soon enough, and I started walking in the direction the car was facing, figuring I should at least make for what appeared to be my destination.”

Arthur put his fingers to his temples and sighed. “I was so fucking scared,” he said, laughing a little. “I was just...walking on the side of the road with no idea what was going on. At that point I hadn’t started remembering anything yet so it really was just total darkness, trying to piece things together. And I’d broken my arm, so _that_ was hurting like hell. When Gaius finally pulled over and gave me a lift to the hospital it was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me.”

“Gaius?” Merlin echoed.

“He’s the old man I work for. I was buying books for him yesterday, actually. He owns an antiques shop, and he’s rented me the flat above it. It’s just down the street, like I said earlier. But yeah, he was driving by and saw me with my bleeding skull and tattered clothes and gave me a hand.”

“Thank goodness for that.” Merlin wanted to meet this Gaius and hug him.

“Yeah, no kidding. I don’t know where I would be now without him. Probably selling drugs on the street or something. But anyway, when I told him I thought I had amnesia, he took me to the hospital. The doctors did a bunch of tests on my head—x-rays, psych evals, memory exercises. And since I had my wallet they were able to figure out who I was, where I worked, what debts I owed, what family I had living, things like that.”

Now they were back to it. “Why didn’t you contact anyone, then?” Merlin asked again.

Arthur sighed. “That’s just the thing. They could tell me who I was associated with, but not what I was like, if I’d been a bad person or not—”

“What?!” Arthur thought he’d been a bad person?

“Or if I had good relationships with the people in my life or if I hated my job or _any_ of that sort of stuff. And if I did go back to my old life, I still wouldn’t have any memories. I wouldn’t be able to just jump back in and expect to fit perfectly like I had before.”

Arthur’s hands on the table clenched into fists. “And if I’d...if I’d been with someone, if I’d been in love, how fair would that be to them, going back with no recollection at all? Would I even still love them? They’d have all these memories that I wouldn’t be able to share. I didn’t want to hurt anyone like that, lover, friend, _or_ family.”

Merlin could hardly breathe. He didn’t want Arthur’s words to make sense, but they did. Arthur had been scared. Arthur had always been scared of confronting something emotionally intimidating, of letting people down, and had relied on Merlin to get him through most of his ordeals. He’d always preferred avoidance instead of resolution. It made sense what he did, that he wouldn’t want to try going back to a life he wasn’t sure would want him back as damaged goods.

Merlin wasn’t sure if Arthur would want _him_ back if he knew how damaged he was himself.

“So instead of going back, I stayed with Gaius and tried to become someone else,” Arthur continued. “I _did_ owe him my life, and he ended up needing someone like me around the shop. I couldn’t just disappear altogether, of course, and had to notify more than a few people about the change in address so I could still pay my debts, namely the car I totalled, but the doctors helped a lot when they explained my amnesia. It was a relatively smooth transition, and well, here I am.”

Merlin chuckled hollowly. “Here you are.”

Arthur frowned a little, leaning forward to speak more emphatically. “Merlin, I know I hurt people by not coming back. But I did it because I thought it was best. You have to understand that. I thought it would be better not going back at all than going back to disappointed faces and expectations to be who I was before.”

“No, I get it,” Merlin said, placing his hand over Arthur’s fist. “As much as I wish it would have happened differently, I understand.”

Merlin wanted to ask if Arthur would come back now, if he’d forged enough of his own identity to know who he was and could face another transition. He wanted to explain that his friends would take him back no matter how much he’d changed, that the person Arthur had been in love with could get over the loss of old memories, because they could make so many more new ones.

Arthur’s gaze dropped to their hands on the table and Merlin’s little finger twitched. He hesitated a second with his hand still there, wondering how Arthur would react if he left it, let the moment stretch out to mean something more, but then lost his nerve and pulled away, clearing his throat.

“So, you’ve told me the last memory you had before the accident,” Merlin said, moving on. “What’s your earliest memory?”

Arthur sat back, raising his eyes to the ceiling as he thought. “Hmm. Well, everything’s a blur really. My whole memory is a jigsaw puzzle I can’t properly make out. So it goes without saying my childhood is about as vague as anyone else’s, but with even less definition. The one thing I’m positively sure of is my father bending down to look me in the eye and telling me not to cry over my mother’s death.”

Merlin cringed. “Yeah. I remember you telling me that.”

“Do you know how old I was? ‘Cause I don’t.”

“You were five.”

Arthur pulled out his mobile and started thumbing the screen intently. Merlin watched with a furrowed brow before Arthur glanced up at him.

“Sorry, not ignoring you,” Arthur said. “Just making a note of that. I wasn’t kidding about that timeline thing.”

“Oh.”

Arthur put his phone away and smiled deviously. “Now, you answer _my_ questions.”

Merlin chuckled nervously. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“What was I like?”

 _Amazing_ , Merlin thought instantly. _Annoying. Wonderful. Preppy. Caring. Insufferable. Honest. Arrogant. Strong._

“You were an arse. Didn’t I say that already?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t have been that bad if you were willing to put up with me.”

Merlin fought back a smile. Arthur had said something similar when he’d asked if he could move in with Merlin and Merlin had insisted they wait longer.

“Well, you did have your moments. You weren’t an arse _all_ the time.”

“Such as? Give me an example.”

Merlin could think of quite a few, but not many that didn’t have to do with how serious their relationship was. And it still wasn’t the right time to tell Arthur about all that yet.

“There was one time when you took off work early to come round to mine because I was ill,” Merlin said. “I was absolutely miserable, and even though you can be annoying sometimes, you know how to make me laugh. You made me tea and soup and we watched horror films and you pointed out how stupid the actors were, how predictable all the plots were. It was...” Merlin looked down at his hands and ran a finger over a row of studs on his right wristband to busy himself as he tried to push back the swell of emotion. He took a deep breath before continuing. “It was nice. It was really nice of you.”

“Oh.” Arthur said it like a realisation, and when Merlin looked back up, a little line had formed between his brows. “So we were, like... _best_ friends, then.”

Merlin swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded. “Yeah. We were best friends.”

“Huh. So I was an arse, but I could be nice,” Arthur said, musing aloud. “Sounds a bit like how I am now, I guess. Good to know that hasn’t changed.”

Merlin chuckled. “Yeah.”

“And our other friends?” Arthur asked. “What are they like? Do they miss me, too?”

“Of course they do!” Merlin exclaimed, shocked that Arthur even asked. “I won’t lie, I probably missed you the most, since we were the closest. But the others think about you a lot, too. When you went missing along with your car, we all thought you’d just up and left. But that’s not you at all, so then we started thinking worse things...”

“Perhaps you could stop making me feel like a complete tit and get back to describing the others,” Arthur suggested.

Merlin huffed at the same time he felt a small twinge of guilt. Arthur probably _had_ felt horrible for abandoning them, and Merlin wasn’t making things easier by going into detail on how it had affected everyone.

“Right, okay. Well, you had a few acquaintances at the office you used to work at, but I never really got to know any of them all that well. You took me out for drinks with them once to meet them, but I don’t think even you were particularly chummy with them.”

Arthur nodded, like he understood perfectly, and it was weird telling Arthur about his life and what he might or might not have felt.

“The five of us—you, me, Will, Gwen, and Lance—were much more close. Will is a barman and there’s really no sob story he hasn’t heard. He’s a bit like you in that he acts like he doesn’t care but will always come through in the end if someone needs him. But unlike you, he’s loud-mouthed, dirty, and resorts to tough love first before softening up if that doesn’t work. Well, actually that’s _still_ like you. Oh, and he _loves_ video games. It’s all he ever talks about besides comics.”

“A loud-mouthed, nerdy barman. Wonderful,” Arthur said sarcastically. “Please tell me the other two balance out this complete _idiot_.”

Merlin laughed. “Yeah, they do. Lancelot and Gwen. They’re a couple, actually, have been since college. They got married in uni—” At this, Arthur raised a brow. “—Yeah, I know. And honestly I can hardly stand them when they’re together. Much easier to deal with them one on one. Anyways, Gwen’s headstrong and a bit impulsive, always speaks her mind, which she’s got in trouble for on more than one occasion. Lance sort of keeps her in check, but both of them are the sappy sort to love unconditionally. And that’s just each other. When one of us is in danger they’re like a bloody force of nature, and I swear, there’s helping and then there’s _Gwen-and-Lance_ style helping which is more like suffocation.”

Arthur’s brow raised higher. “You sound a bit bitter about that.”

Merlin stopped himself to breathe. “Yeah, I...I’ve had my ups and downs, I guess. Mostly downs recently. And whenever you weren’t around to help, I had to rely on them. As I said, they’re much worse when they’re together. But catching them alone is nearly impossible, so naturally I’d always go to my best friend for help first,” Merlin ended, trying to smile and make light of it.

Arthur didn’t smile. He frowned and looked at the table as though the wood pattern personally offended him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said quietly.

Merlin felt every muscle in his body tense up, breath catching in his throat again, and suddenly the past four years—the attempted suicide, the cutting, the darkness, the therapy, the numbness—none of it mattered because of that one simple sentence. He threw caution to the wind, didn’t care whether or not it overwhelmed Arthur, and took Arthur’s hands in his, squeezing so hard he was sure he was hurting him.

“You’re here now,” Merlin said, voice thick with emotion. “Even if you don’t have your memories, you’re here. I’ve got my best friend back.”

Arthur stared at him wide-eyed, and then his frown smoothed out into something blank as his gaze turned a little glassy. It was like he wasn’t seeing Merlin anymore, was looking through him or past him, and Merlin hoped he hadn’t given himself away completely. Not just the fact of how broken he truly was, but the fact that they’d been together at all. Because this was still just their first real talk after almost five years, and now that Merlin knew Arthur’s reasons for not returning, it seemed as important as ever to not let him know they’d been romantic. He had to get Arthur to love him again first, had to show Arthur that he still loved him with every atom and molecule of his being, and _then_ he’d tell him. Arthur would see that lost memories didn’t matter as much as he believed. Otherwise, Merlin risked scaring Arthur off, because Arthur had always been bad with trying to fulfill expectations. If there were no expectations to fulfill, if they could start as though from the beginning...

Arthur’s eyes slid back down to their hands, his brow furrowing once more as he stared at where they were still clasped. Maybe it hadn’t been that Merlin had given himself away. Maybe this touch had sparked a memory of some sort. If that was the case, Merlin could work with that as well. He could try to get Arthur to remember at the same time that he romanced him. It was a good plan, the _perfect_ plan—

Merlin’s mobile buzzed in his pocket and he swore. Arthur jerked out of his daze and Merlin pulled his hands away to see who was ringing. It probably wouldn’t be Will again. Will probably would have gone to...

Yep. It was Lance.

Merlin sighed. If he didn’t answer, Lance would go to Gwen. And Gwen would go to Alator. And that was the last thing Merlin needed.

“Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” Merlin said.

Arthur slid his chair back and stood. “Yeah, I’ve got to get going anyways.”

“What?” They’d only been talking twenty minutes. How could Arthur go now? “I’ll see you again before I have to leave, right?” It sounded pathetic even to Merlin’s ears, but it was out now.

Arthur’s features softened. He even smiled a little. “Yeah. I have a few more questions. We can have lunch or something tomorrow. I’ll ring you.” He put a heavy hand on Merlin’s shoulder as he walked by. “Good seeing you, Merlin.”

Merlin struggled not to get up and follow him, but his mobile was still buzzing persistently in his hand. _Damn you, Lancelot_ , he mentally swore at it.

But at last, he answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, Merlin,” Lance said, voice as slow and unhurried as ever. “Will rang me.” _Of course he did, the twat._ “He’s worried about you. He said you didn’t come home on the train last night.”

Merlin sighed again. “Yeah. I missed it.”

“He said you wanted to stay there a few more days.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So the last time you took off work without a valid reason was—”

“I have a reason. And it’s perfectly valid to me.”

“Merlin.”

Merlin bristled. He hated when Lance said his name that way, like he was a fucking misbehaved child. “I _am_ an adult, you know. This is my decision to make.”

“I know that. It would just make us a feel a lot better if you told us why. I’m not saying you have to tell us anything you don’t want to, I’m saying it would be nice if you at least did it as a courtesy.”

Merlin clenched his fist on the table. “Maybe you were right. Maybe I did need a change of scenery. Maybe I needed some space, and to not have you three hovering over me all the time making sure I don’t try to off myself again. Maybe I just want to be left the fuck alone for a few days, alright?”

Lance was quiet so long, Merlin worried he’d given away the fact that he hadn’t taken his meds. He’d never expressed much anger while he was doped up—it was mostly mild annoyance to the point of snapping, but never voice-raising—and the last time he’d gone on a rant as bitter as that was years ago, when he’d yelled and screamed for them to take him out of the mental hospital.

“I know Will and Gwen can be a bit overbearing,” Lance said at last. “I think Will is just that way because he was the one who found you...you know. He told me he had nightmares about you lying on the floor like that for weeks afterwards.”

“He did?” Will had never told him that.

“He did. And Gwen is just...she’s Gwen. I’ll talk to them about giving you a bit more space after you get back. They won’t like it, but if they see that it’s making you take risks like this just to get away I think they’ll understand.”

Merlin closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Fuck, he felt terrible for lying to them like this.

“Thanks,” he said anyways.

“It’s no problem, Merlin. I’ll see you when you get back. Bye.”

Merlin exhaled in relief. Lance had a way of being patronising, to be sure, but he could also be incredibly understanding. In this case, more understanding than Merlin deserved.

Merlin’s stomach growled. He realised he hadn’t eaten all day, since he’d been so excited about meeting with Arthur. He figured he should at least get a small cake or something while he was already in the cafe. And then maybe he’d walk down the street to try to find that antique shop...

No. Best not. Even if it was just to see where Arthur was living and working these days, Arthur might catch sight of him, and he didn’t need Arthur thinking he was a stalker. He’d have a quick snack, then go back to the hotel to read.

Merlin smiled as he walked up to the counter to order, remembering Arthur’s laugh, and the way his hands felt, and his voice when he said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” All in all, Merlin thought their first date after four years had gone rather well.

♦ ♦ ♦

Merlin didn’t even look at his meds the next morning. As before, he’d taken the pill for sleeping, but he was pretty certain that at this point it was because he was too excited to get to sleep naturally, not because he’d be up half the night with idle thoughts. He woke up to the alarm he’d set for ten thirty, and dragged himself out of bed straight to the shower.

He felt happy, ecstatic even. He was going to see Arthur again, things were going exactly according to plan, and he’d managed to get his friends to back off. Of course there was the voice in the back of Merlin’s head telling him he didn’t have long, that he’d be going back to his old life soon, that he’d be alone again. But he was back in Arthur’s thoughts. Merlin would be able to get through his days knowing that.

And he wouldn’t give up. He would become great friends with Arthur again, he’d text him everyday when he went back, until he had enough time and money to come back for another visit, or he’d convince Arthur to visit him. They would snap back together like a stretched elastic band because they were Merlin and Arthur and they always did. Even when they’d had disagreements before, they had come back together, and with brilliant makeup sex on top of it.

Drying off his wet body now, Merlin looked at his bare wrists. The scars from the first time were still a little visible under harsh light, even after a few years, but they _had_ been deep. Deep enough to make him lose consciousness, almost for good. The depth of the original wounds made the two scars wider than the others, like the broad stripes in a flannel pattern.

The other ones, the thin stripes, weren’t nearly so bad, and most had faded away altogether. Only the ones from the past few months were still a shade of brownish pink against the otherwise pale flesh, and the two he’d done before getting on the train were still an angry brown-red, scabbed over and unbearably itchy. It was probably the fact that Merlin itched them all so much that they weren’t healing like they should.

For the next few days, he could just keep wearing his wristbands. But if he wanted to hide it from Arthur forever, he’d have to look into some alternative methods of healing.

Merlin sighed and put his wristbands back on, the one on his left, an ordinary black leather—the one with the frayed edge—and the one on his right, a leather band with three rows of silver studs. He’d had them both for ages, since before he knew Arthur, and by now they were like old friends. He even thought about giving them names a couple times.

He probably should buy new ones. He’d always kind of wanted one with spikes, but those never covered a large enough area to hide all the scars. Oh well.

After getting dressed and brushing his teeth, Merlin lay on the bed, spread-eagled and staring at the ceiling. He thought about brushing his hair, but then he remembered some passing comment Arthur had made long ago about liking it just unkempt enough to be sexy.

Merlin smiled, thinking about Arthur’s hair and how it looked now. It was kind of sexy too, in a way. Merlin could even come to like it. At the moment, however, he just felt the need to take a comb to it, forcing it to lay flat.

After a while, Merlin turned to his head to look at the clock on the nightstand with a sigh. It was eleven eleven. He wished Arthur would remember that he loved him.

The exact second the clock went eleven twelve, Merlin’s mobile rang. He bolted up and answered it.

“Hello?”

Arthur’s voice was the sweetest sound in the world. “Oh. Wow. Hi. Just calling to ask if twelve thirty works for you?”

Merlin inwardly groaned. Why couldn’t they meet now? What was he supposed to do with himself until twelve thirty?

“Yeah, that’s fine for me.”

“Brilliant. Do you mind if we meet at the antiques shop and order takeaway or something? There’s something I want you to see.”

“Arthur, I think you’re forgetting that you’ve been missing four years, nearly five. We don’t have to eat at all if that’s what you want, I’ll just be glad to see you.” Was that too keen? Merlin wasn’t sure. But a best friend would be able to get away with saying that, right? In a totally non-romantic way?

Merlin breathed easy when Arthur laughed. “Alright. The shop is down the street and around the corner from the cafe we were at yesterday. Just search for Albion’s Antiques and you should be able to find it easily enough. The entrance is kind of in an alley but I swear it’s not dodgy, and it’s bigger on the inside.”

“Right. Albion’s Antiques, dodgy alley entrance, is actually the Tardis. Got it.”

Arthur laughed again, louder this time, making Merlin grin broadly. “Yeah. I’ll see you soon, Merlin. Bye.”

“Bye.” Merlin waited until he was sure Arthur had hung up to close his eyes and whisper, “I love you.”

♦ ♦ ♦

Merlin was so excited he almost passed the entrance. It really was in an alleyway, and the only indication of its existence on the main walk at all was a sign hanging from above announcing “Albion’s Antiques➔.” Merlin turned down the alley and opened the barred door with a sweaty hand.

It was like stepping into a giant treasure chest. Every flat surface was nearly overflowing with some sort of ancient object, and there didn’t seem to be any organisation to it. The same circular table to the left of the door that held an Asiatic lamp also had a Victorian-style pocket watch and an ivory tusk. The shelves had stacks upon stacks of what appeared to Merlin to just be junk, but he also felt he could spend days in here wandering, looking, and still never getting to the bottom of any particular pile.

It went without saying that Merlin couldn’t even _see_ Arthur. A medieval chandelier hung from the ceiling, as well as various other ornaments like dreamcatchers and Greek art recreated on canvas banners. Merlin stepped lightly around the shop, keeping his hands in his pockets and trying to make himself small.

“Merlin?”

Merlin jumped and squinted his eyes, trying to find Arthur through the glistening objects and heaps of antiques. He realised why he wasn’t able to find him when he heard quick, heavy footsteps coming down what sounded like wooden stairs.

And then suddenly Arthur was there, coming out from behind a bookcase that held more ornate goblets than books.

“I _thought_ I heard the door,” Arthur said, smiling. Merlin’s face broke out into a grin reflexively. “Sorry, I know it’s a bit overwhelming at first. Here, I’ll lead you upstairs.” Arthur grabbed hold of Merlin’s hand and tugged him along, navigating deftly through the maze.

“Is anyone else here? Shouldn’t we stay downstairs?” Merlin asked. “The door’s unlocked. Someone could just come in and—”

“Believe it or not, that’s usually not a problem,” Arthur remarked, chuckling. “I think even the thieves wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Oh.”

They came to a narrow wooden staircase in the back of the shop behind the counter, smushed between two brick walls that wasn’t too tight a squeeze for Merlin, but had Arthur’s broad shoulders brushing the sides. Merlin felt a wave of claustrophobia wash over him as he had flashbacks of his room at the mental hospital. His heart beat quickly and he held Arthur’s hand tighter.

The room the staircase opened up to at the top was dimly lit, and appeared to be a small kitchen, but Arthur led Merlin through that as well, through a short corridor to a room with much more light via the window. Merlin didn’t have to wonder much longer about what it was Arthur had wanted to show him.

It was Arthur’s bedroom, the right side consisting of a sorry-looking bed and a desk with an ancient desktop computer, and the left side, the _left_ side dedicated to nothing but a massive chart, months in the rows and years in the columns. It started on the wall bearing the door and wrapped around all the way to the window straight ahead. Merlin counted the columns—there were twenty, age five to twenty-five.

Merlin stepped forward, his hand slipping from Arthur’s as he turned to face the column nearest him. He noticed now there were actually thirteen rows, the row at the top not indicating January, but memories for unknown months in that year. The post-it in the first slot was what Merlin had told Arthur yesterday—“Mother’s death.” Merlin turned his head and looked across the room at the post-it in the final spot—“Accident.”

“Wow,” Merlin said, awed. “Have you, um. Ever thought of putting it into a computer or something?”

Arthur chuckled. “That was the first thing I did. But that computer’s old as dirt and it didn’t really work out for me anyways. I tried an outline too, with the same difficulties. I think I’m more of a visual person.”

Merlin walked from one end of the room to the other, recognising some events and not so much others. He saw another note that must have been more recent—“Met Merlin”—and smiled.

Some of the notes even had question marks, which Merlin suspected meant Arthur wasn’t sure whether it had really happened or was a dream. Some areas were more filled in than others, like Arthur’s teenage years and the first couple years he spent at uni. There was a large chunk missing from age twenty to twenty-five, May of his twenty-fifth year having been when he lost his memory.

“My doctors told me to keep a journal at first, and every time I went in for check-ups I’d talk about things I’d remembered. The memories were more frequent the first couple years but then they sort of just...stopped. I have the occasional flicker now but it’s usually so vague I don’t bother writing it down,” Arthur explained. “I gave up trying to remember anything new, but I have a whole stack of post-its that I don’t know where to put on the timeline. I sort of figured you could help me with that.”

Merlin turned around to face him, smiling. “Of course.”

“Great!” Arthur exclaimed, sounding more pleased than Merlin had heard him since they’d met again. “I’ll order food and we can start while we wait. What do you want?”

Merlin wasn’t really hungry, even though he hadn’t eaten much yesterday, but he wasn’t going to make Arthur eat alone.

He shrugged. “I’m good with anything.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed and he raised a brow. “Anything?”

“Er, well I wouldn’t eat a spider or any other kind of insect, but anything _normal_ , yeah.”

“I’m serious, Merlin. Because if I can just give you an apple and save the money, you need to let me know if you’re fine with that.”

“Oh.” Merlin glanced around the bedroom again, and Arthur’s statement sank in. _Oh._ “Yeah, an apple’s fine. I’m not that hungry anyways.”

Arthur’s shoulders sagged with relief and his smile returned. “Cool. In that case I won’t order anything at all. Come on.”

Merlin followed Arthur back to the dimly lit kitchen—peeking into one of the other rooms off the corridor and finding it to be a living area of sorts—and took the apple Arthur handed him gratefully. Arthur himself reached up into a cupboard and pulled out a tin of soup at the same time he turned the cooker on.

Merlin sat down at an old table, sinking his teeth into the juicy apple. Arthur’s back was turned to him as he poured the soup into a pot, and Merlin took the opportunity to have a closer look at the small flat.

It was good that Arthur was still alive, but every time a thought had managed to slip through the cracks about where Arthur may have disappeared off to, Merlin had never imagined him to be living like this. He’d imagined something like a fancy suite with an amazing view. And what was even more strange about it all, was that Arthur seemed to be perfectly fine with it. He’d been successful before, hadn’t had to worry about old computers and saving money on takeaway, and sure, he didn’t remember all that, but Merlin had thought Arthur would at least complain a _little_.

It didn’t fit with his image of Arthur at all. Arthur was preppy, posh, and arrogant. The man in front of Merlin now was still Arthur, but his lifestyle, his attitude towards his situation, also made him completely foreign.

When Arthur finally turned to sit down with his bowl of soup, Merlin tried to surreptitiously inspect his clothes and features. Arthur still dressed the same way as he had before, in cotton v-necks with abstract logos and jeans. And they didn’t _appear_ to be secondhand. As Arthur spooned soup into his mouth, not bothering to let it cool, Merlin had to face it: it was still Arthur, just a more down-to-earth Arthur. Maybe even a better Arthur.

“You know,” Arthur began, suddenly, tearing Merlin from his silent observations, “you left out some very important information yesterday.”

Merlin’s stomach flipped. Shit, had Arthur remembered? Had the hand-holding given him away? Had Arthur gone home so quickly because he’d had a flash of a memory he needed to decipher? Did he notice the way Merlin looked at—

“You didn’t say anything about yourself,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “My own best friend, and I don’t even know him.”

“Oh.” Merlin chuckled, relieved.

“You said you’ve had mostly downs recently, which I can guess the reason for. Sorry again, by the way. But I don’t even know your last name or what you do for a living or how old you are.”

“Emrys,” Merlin said. “My last name is Emrys.”

Merlin waited a few seconds to see if that caused any reaction, but Arthur just kept eating his soup, until finally he looked up.

“Yeah, I got it. Go on,” he nudged.

“Well, you know that we graduated the same year, so I’m almost thirty, like you. I’m an—I work at an Apple store.”

Arthur snickered. “Oh God, you’re one of those Apple Geniuses, aren’t you?”

Merlin grinned at the apple in his hand and told Arthur the same thing he’d said when he’d first got the job almost seven years ago. “Someone has to do it.”

Arthur did stop then, the spoon freezing midair halfway to his mouth. Merlin’s heart beat a little quicker as he watched a line form between Arthur’s brows, as the words obviously echoed in Arthur’s head but he struggled to place the meaning.

It only last about ten seconds, though. Eventually Arthur completed his spoon’s path to his mouth and carried on. “Yeah? So, what, you studied computers at uni and then couldn’t get a better job than that?”

Merlin glared at him, but was overflowing with inner warmth, because they’d _been_ here before, they’d had this conversation already.

“Actually, I studied graphic design and a little bit of marketing, but apparently it’s about who you know. And how you look, because Gwen studied the same thing but she’s _pretty_ so she ended up a model.” Merlin sighed. “Such is life.” He took a bite of his apple.

“Oh fuck, I was friends with a model? That’s awesome! Why didn’t you say that before?”

Merlin almost choked on his apple he laughed so hard. “ _Because_. I did mention she was headstrong and outspoken about her beliefs, right? She only models occasionally these days, not as a career, since she hates the industry. But it was modelling that let her get into the business and now she’s trying to change the way things work from the inside.” Merlin rolled his eyes. “She’s so social justice sometimes, it makes me want to k—punch something.”

Arthur pointed a stern finger at Merlin and Merlin’s heart skipped as he hoped Arthur hadn’t noticed his slip up about killing himself.

“Hey,” Arthur said. “I said to talk about you. You’re talking about Gwen.”

Merlin put up his hands defensively. “You asked a question and I answered.”

Arthur looked unimpressed but brushed over it, continuing. “If it’s about who you know, and Gwen’s so successful, why can’t she help you get out of the Apple store?”

Merlin took another bite to buy himself time to think of a good enough lie. He couldn’t say it was because he’d simply stopped caring, that his meds made him so blank and numb and just not _there_ that he hadn’t wanted to go to work at all, let alone try to climb the business ladder.

Merlin couldn’t come up with anything so he just shrugged. “Guess it just never worked out that way. It’s not like I’m complaining. I’m fine with how much I earn.”

“But it’s not what you want to do, is it?” Arthur pressed. “If it’s not what you want to do, why keep doing it? Don’t you want to feel like you have a purpose?”

 _Jesus, you sound like Dr Alator_. Merlin almost said it aloud, but just barely stopped himself. Instead, he deflected such introspective questions the same way he always did—with a joke.

“Right now my purpose is helping people with their iPhones.”

Arthur expelled a huff of air out his nose and rolled his eyes, going back to his soup. “Of course it is.”

Even though Merlin was still overjoyed to have Arthur back, the statement irked Merlin, just a little. It seemed Arthur still had a way of pushing Merlin’s buttons.

“It’s not like you were any better,” Merlin said. “You _hated_ working at that stupid office but you did it anyways. As far as I could tell, neither of our lives’ purpose was in our work, so don’t act all high and fucking mighty now you’re—”

Merlin stopped because Arthur had started laughing, all out guffawing as though Merlin had told a joke. He even had to wipe a tear from his eye.

“Do you always look so—so _sassy_ when you’re angry?” Arthur asked between large intakes of breaths.

Merlin frowned, then promptly blushed when Arthur’s words registered. Arthur had never called him that before. Is that what he’d always thought? “Uh...”

Arthur laughed a few more seconds before finally fading into chuckles. “Sorry, sorry. I...I bet you can look pretty scary if you want to. It’s just...right then. Oh my God, your face. Like an angry kitten.”

Merlin glared at him, and that set Arthur going again.

“Oh my God, stop it!” Arthur said, laughing. “My stomach actually hurts.”

Merlin sighed but he couldn’t help it. He started laughing, too.

And it felt good. It felt _really_ good to laugh like this, to have Arthur make him laugh like this, even if it was at his own expense. If Merlin ignored the setting, he could pretend the past four years had never happened.

“Okay, okay,” Arthur said, calming himself. “But seriously. I only ask about the whole purpose thing because you seem the type to be really passionate about something. I find it hard to believe there’s nothing in your life you don’t really care about.”

Merlin was still so light-headed with mirth he almost came right out and said _I care about you, you idiot. You’re my entire world, don’t you know that?_ Merlin had thrown all his passion into Arthur. They’d been like Gwen and Lance with more good-natured bickering and less sap.

But then he remembered where he was, how the situation had changed. He caught a glimpse of a scar poking out from under his right wristband and everything came snapping back into focus, his stomach sinking like an anvil.

“Nope,” Merlin said, taking a deep breath. “I’m very...what’s the word? Happy-go-lucky, I guess. Not much passion here, to be honest.”

“Hmm.”

Arthur’s thoughtful noise sounded like scepticism, but he wasn’t saying anything, so that was fine with Merlin. He returned to his soup, and Merlin returned to his apple, which, like Arthur’s meal, was nearly finished.

“What do you do for fun, then?” Arthur asked as his spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl.

Merlin hadn’t had fun in ages. Even the activities at the mental hospital meant to be engaging and “stimulating” had bored him.

Merlin shrugged. “I read. Sometimes Will tries to get me to play video games with him but it doesn’t really interest me.” Merlin turned his apple, but it was pretty much done for, so he set it on the table. “I listen to a lot of music as well. And if Gwen wants me to help her with a design I’ll open up Photoshop and see what I can do.”

The last bit wasn’t exactly true anymore, though. Merlin hadn’t been able to do anything creative in a while, let alone help Gwen with an idea. Well, Merlin supposed it wasn’t that he _couldn’t_ do it, simply that he had no desire to. The only thing he used his computer for these days was checking his email or syncing his mobile.

“No offence, but you sound like a very boring person,” Arthur said, pointing his spoon at Merlin. “Seriously, you read and listen to music? What else do you do besides wear all black? Cut yourself and write bad poetry?”

“No!” Merlin yelled. Perhaps a bit too loudly, because Arthur blinked at the volume. Merlin tried to calm himself and lowered his voice. “I mean. Really, Arthur, that joke was bad four years ago, it’s still bad now.”

Arthur pursed his lips, his _thinking_ face again, and Merlin tried not to fidget too much under the gaze. Or do something really stupid like scratch beneath his wristbands.

“Did I ever get you a bright red hat or something for your birthday and then try to guilt you into wearing it by saying my feelings would be hurt if you didn’t? Because I can definitely see myself trying to work some colour into your wardrobe by way of guilt tripping.”

Merlin chuckled, glad to have avoided potential drama. “A bright red _shirt_ , actually, which I did wear, but only to bed. Needless to say, you felt horribly cheated.”

Arthur snapped his fingers. “Damn.”

“Yeah. What’s worse is I don’t even have the shirt anymore.”

Wow, did Merlin just make a joke about that? He’d _cried_ into that shirt—and many of Arthur’s clothes—those first nine months without Arthur, before he’d tried to kill himself and was taken to the hospital, during which time Lancelot got rid of all Arthur’s things. Now Merlin was making light of it? And without even the smallest twist of his stomach?

Arthur didn’t seem to be affected by the fact that his old things had been lost either. He smiled and said, “Well this time I’m going to get you a bright yellow one, and you better be wearing it the next time you come to see me or I won’t even say hello.”

Merlin grinned so hard his face hurt. “Okay.”

Arthur raised his bowl to his mouth, draining the last of the broth, and wiped his chin. “Let’s get to the work on the timeline, then.”

He stood, picking up Merlin’s apple as well, and tossed it in the bin before placing his dishes in the sink. Merlin looked around, but couldn’t find a dishwasher. It was hard to believe Arthur did the washing by hand, because even before he’d moved in with Merlin, he’d had someone come by his flat to clean up for him.

Merlin followed Arthur back to the bedroom. Arthur opened a drawer in the desk by the bed and pulled out a short stack of yellow post-it notes just like the ones on the wall. He took the one off the top and held it up to Merlin.

“When did I sprain my ankle so badly I couldn’t walk for weeks?” he asked. “And how? If you know.”

Merlin walked over to the part of the timeline that was just a month before he and Arthur decided to move from friends-with-benefits to lovers. He put his finger in the square.

“Here. Playing football.”

Arthur crossed the room and stuck the post-it to the wall with an air of triumph. He held up another. “And this?”

They spent nearly an hour going through Arthur’s memories, not because Arthur had a lot of post-its—there actually weren’t more than twenty—but because sometimes even Merlin didn’t know where they went, only that they had happened. When they reached the end of the stack, Merlin racked his brain for his own Arthur stories, telling him when Arthur had met each of their friends, when he’d been promoted at work, and when he’d tried to learn a new language but gave up after becoming frustrated.

Every time Arthur pinned up a post-it, even if he didn’t remember it happening himself, the sparkle in his eye indicated he was glad to at least have more of the timeline filled. Merlin wished he could tell Arthur everything he remembered.

Arthur had brushed up against him twice when Merlin failed to get out of the way of him reaching up to pin a note high on the wall. Merlin had gasped the first time, and had probably blushed a bit as well, because Arthur apologised quickly. The second time, when Arthur’s front came practically flush with Merlin’s back and one of his arms had Merlin partially boxed in, Merlin was sure it was deliberate, and shuddered at the feeling of Arthur’s breath ghosting down his neck.

Merlin didn’t know what to make of it. It seemed a bit like Arthur was testing him for his reaction, and Merlin didn’t know if Arthur had started to remember their relationship or was just trying to strike up something new regardless. Either way, the act was done so innocently that Merlin could hardly call Arthur out on it.

“Oh!” Arthur exclaimed as they stood considering the timeline with their arms crossed. He looked at Merlin a little shyly. “I don’t suppose I ever told you when I lost my virginity, did I?”

Merlin laughed. “Actually you used to brag about it.”

Arthur looked horrified. “Oh God, seriously?”

Merlin nodded and picked up a blank post-it, writing _Lost virginity_ on it. He didn’t know the month, but he did know the year, and put it in the correct column.

“Yep,” Merlin said. “Some eighteen-year-old girl sucked you off when you were fifteen. You lied about your age. And she believed you because you had the body to get away with it.”

Arthur snorted. “A blow job doesn’t count.”

Merlin laughed again, a little hysterically. “That’s exactly what we used to say! But you’d always say it did!”

Arthur plucked the post-it off the wall where Merlin had placed it. “When did I _really_ lose it?”

Merlin pointed to the square. “The next year, in college, when you were sixteen. Some bloke named Stephen, I think.” Really, it was comical how Merlin still bristled a little at saying the name—which he of course remembered—of the person who’d taken Arthur’s virginity.

Arthur frowned as he filled the spot. “I don’t get it. If I knew I was gay for so long, why did I—”

“Wait until uni to come out?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t seem like me. I’m fine with who I am now.”

Merlin sighed. “It wasn’t that you weren’t fine with it, Arthur. You had plenty of sex with other guys, you just dated girls for appearances.”

“But _why_ —”

“Because. Even though being away at uni made it a lot more unlikely for your father to find out, you always had this problem with expectations. You felt like you’d be letting him down or would be a disappointment. And you never exactly _told_ me this but I think you believed you had to be a certain way or he wouldn’t approve of you. I mean, you can tell from your first memory he wasn’t exactly a kind man.”

Arthur frowned harder, then eventually sighed. Merlin could guess that Arthur knew he _still_ had a problem with expectations, considering it was one of the reasons why he hadn’t returned after losing his memory. “That makes sense. I just wish I had done things differently.”

Merlin automatically raised his hand to put on Arthur’s shoulder, then hesitated. Should he? He’d already taken liberties by grabbing Arthur’s hands in the cafe. A hand on the shoulder wasn’t much more, was it?

Merlin let himself do it. There was no visible change in Arthur, which Merlin took to be a good sign.

“I’m pretty sure everyone feels that way when looking back on their life, Arthur,” Merlin said. “It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Arthur looked up at him, tilting his head a little, and smiled. “Oh. So _that’s_ why I was friends with you. I’d been beginning to wonder what you had to offer me.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, shoving Arthur’s shoulder playfully. “Prat.”

“Idiot.”

“Posh.”

“Emo.”

“Blond.”

“And still smarter than—” The smile disappeared from Arthur’s face and he blinked, his hand flying to his head. “Whoa.” His eyes got glassy a few seconds and Merlin watched warily, waiting. “Have we...before...?”

Merlin wasn’t sure how much Arthur had just remembered, if he was asking if they’d kissed before, if they’d made love before, if they’d eaten ice cream naked on the sofa before and cuddled when they’d started shivering. But then he thought that if Arthur had remembered all _that_ , the reaction probably would be a bit more dramatic.

Merlin gave him a half smile. “Maybe a few times, yeah.”

Arthur’s own smile returned and he finished their bickering the same way he always did. “And still smarter than you.”

Merlin had to physically back away for a moment. He was overcome with the desire to kiss Arthur right then and there, and it was only at the last second that he remembered why that was a bad idea. Arthur’s smile faltered, and Merlin realised that his step back might have been taken the wrong way, that Arthur might have felt he’d done something wrong.

So Merlin pushed down his longing and said, “Except not really.”

Arthur chuckled and turned to look at the chart on the wall again with a wistful sigh. It was definitely more completed, or at least appeared that way since more slots were filled. There were probably thousands more memories lost from Arthur’s brain that wouldn’t fit on the wall, experiences that had shaped his personality that simply couldn’t be expressed in the form of a post-it note. But it obviously made Arthur feel better seeing his timeline less empty.

Suddenly Arthur slapped his forehead. “Oh! I should probably go down to the shop for a while. You’re welcome to stay, since you still haven’t told me enough about yourself to meet best friend standards, but I won’t blame you if you don’t want to sit in a dusty old—”

“No, it’s fine. I have nothing better to do at that boring hotel room anyways.”

“Oh? I figured you’d be reading, considering we did meet in a bookshop.” Arthur walked as he talked, leading Merlin back to the claustrophobia-inducing staircase.

“I’ve read a bit, yeah, but I’m saving the one I bought for the train.”

They descended the stairs and Merlin nearly lost sight of Arthur as he stopped to gape at the overwhelming accumulation of objects again. Then he was brought back to awareness when he heard the scrape of wood on wood. Arthur had pulled up another stool to the counter.

“I know you want to ask about me, but what do _you_ do for fun?” Merlin said as he sat down next to Arthur. “Do you have any mates? Do you still play football?”

Arthur huffed dramatically. “You’re terrible at this. Alright, we’ll take turns answering questions.”

“Okay.”

“I mostly watch telly and faff about on the internet for fun, and if I’ve got the money I’ll go see a play.”

“You like _theatre_?” Merlin had to do a double take. Arthur had never even _spoke_ about anything like that before.

“That’s another question,” Arthur replied, raising a mocking brow. “It’s my turn. Are you anorexic?”

Merlin barked out a laugh. “What? Are you seriously asking that?”

Arthur shrugged. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you were a skeleton. And you said earlier you weren’t hungry so—”

“Oh my God, no, that’s not it at all,” Merlin said. He couldn’t help laughing just a bit more. “I eat, I just have a poor appetite. I’m definitely not anorexic.”

“Oh. That’s good, then.”

Merlin shook his head, still not quite over the fact that Arthur had just asked him that. “Okay, but really. You like theatre? That’s incredibly...not you.”

“Actually it’s very me, because I love it. Gaius took me to see a play back when we were still trying to figure out what sort of stuff I might enjoy or not enjoy, and that was something I ended up enjoying. It’s so different from a film. You can see the actors sweating, hear the quivering of their voices. It’s great.”

Merlin had a feeling he was looking at Arthur like he’d grown two heads, but he honestly couldn’t help it.

“Have you ever been to the theatre?” Arthur asked. “Oh shit, that counts as my question, doesn’t it?”

Merlin shook his head again. “No, I haven’t.”

“You should go. I’ll take you one day if you want.”

Merlin’s heart skipped. Had Arthur just invited him on a date?

“Okay,” Merlin said. A few seconds passed and then Merlin remembered it was his turn to ask a question. “Oh, right. Do you still play football?”

“Nope. Do you have any piercings?”

Merlin laughed. “You ask the weirdest questions.”

“Well excuse me for thinking the emo bloke might have a few piercings.”

“God, quit _calling_ me that. I would’ve thought after losing your memory, you’d let up with that joke. Anyways, I did used to have a lot of earrings and a couple lip rings, but I took them out. And to save you a question, I don’t have any tattoos, either.”

“That _was_ my next question, actually. I thank you for the preemptiveness.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, still chuckling. “Do you have any new mates?”

“I’m friends with some of the regular customers that come in here. As I’m sure you can imagine, our clientele is a rather devoted few, though there’s an occasional new face. I’ve gone out for drinks with some of them, but they’re more like acquaintances. I don’t really have a best friend or anything; there’s been no one that I’ve just _clicked_ with, you know? Apparently you were right about me being an arse, because I think I come off as kind of mean. First impressions and all that.”

“Ah, yeah. Most people won’t want to talk to you again if you’ve insulted them.”

“Please. I don’t outright insult people. It’s their fault they don’t get my sense of humour.”

“Of course it is.”

“Anyways. Gaius is the closest thing I’ve got to a best friend at the moment, but I’ve always thought of him more as a father.”

Merlin sort of started at that. Arthur already had a father, and even if what memories he had of him weren’t the best, surely he wouldn’t try to replace him?

It put Merlin in a bit of an awkward situation. Uther had come to visit Merlin when he’d been in the hospital, and even though they’d only sat in silence for ten strained minutes, Merlin had felt they’d bonded. Sort of. If Merlin had to tell Uther his son was not only still alive, but had apparently found another father figure...

“It’s not like that,” Arthur amended when he saw the look of concern on Merlin’s face. “I know my father is out there, and he’s still my _father_. I mean, I remember him, if a bit vaguely. It’s more like if you were to say you thought of Will as a brother. You know he’s not really your brother, but sometimes it feels like that.”

Merlin nodded. “Okay.”

Arthur folded his hands loosely on the counter. “So. Before I lost my memory. Was I...” He glanced up at Merlin then back down quickly. “Was I in a relationship with anyone?”

Merlin’s heart stopped, and he could do nothing but sputter a few seconds. Luckily, Arthur changed his mind.

“Wait, no, don’t tell me,” Arthur said hurriedly. “I don’t think I want to know. No. It’s—It’s best that way.” He took a deep breath and Merlin had to as well, composing himself. “New question. Are _you_ in a relationship?”

Merlin didn’t think that question was much better, but tried not to let it show. “No.”

Arthur gaped. “Why not?” He reduced his eyes back to his normal size, reining himself in. “Sorry, your question first.”

Merlin steeled himself, because he wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer, but he had to know. “Have you had sex since the accident?”

Arthur laughed once. “You really think I could go almost five years without sex?”

Merlin didn’t say anything, too hurt by the dagger suddenly plunged in his heart. But Arthur’s shoulders shrugged as he deflated, answering his own question.

“No. Not even once.”

Merlin exhaled a held breath, feeling relief wash over him.

“Why aren’t you with anyone?” Arthur asked again. “Even if you are kind of boring and wear clothes that make you look unapproachable, you’re a nice enough bloke. Any girl would be lucky to be with you.”

Merlin blinked, but then realised he’d never outright told Arthur since meeting him again. “I don’t like girls. But thank you.”

Arthur’s head fell to the counter with a dull thud. “Oh thank God,” he said into the wood before lifting his head back up. Merlin’s pulse quickened as he was sure Arthur was about to...Well, he wasn’t sure what Arthur was about to do, but relief at hearing another man was gay usually only meant a couple things. “I’ve been thinking since yesterday that I was the token gay friend in our group.”

Merlin actually laughed at that. “We were both the gay friends. Or, to be more accurate—you were the posh, arrogant one; I was the dark, pessimistic one; Will was the annoying, nerdy one; Lance was the quiet, laid back one; and Gwen was sort of the peacekeeper.”

Arthur made a face that was one part hurt and one part appalled. “I was—”

“Don’t worry, we still loved you. And even though you were arrogant, you also had money, so most of the time you paid for everyone’s drinks when we went out.”

Arthur nodded. “Right. Because I was an arse but I could be nice.” He sighed. “Jesus, I don’t think I’d be able to stand to be around my old self. I probably _wasn’t_ in a relationship just because I was such a cock.”

“You weren’t—”

Merlin stopped when he heard the shop door open. There was a bit of shuffling and then an old man came into view, face weighed down with wrinkles and white hair pulled into a ponytail. Somehow Merlin knew right away it was Gaius.

“Hey Gaius,” Arthur said. “How was the doctor’s appointment?”

Gaius grunted and continued his slow walk through the heaps of wares to the counter. “At the rate my hip is going, I’ll be walking with a cane soon,” he said, hanging his coat on a hook. He caught sight of Merlin and asked, “Who’s this?”

Arthur smiled and jumped off his stool, spinning around to place both hands on Merlin’s shoulders. “This is Merlin. Apparently he was my best friend before the accident.”

Merlin felt a bit like he was some prize Arthur was bringing home to show his father and get approval, but with Arthur’s hands on him, obviously proud, Merlin wasn’t going to complain. He gave Gaius a shy smile and waved. “Hello.”

Gaius eyed him warily, then looked back to Arthur. “Are you sure?”

Arthur snorted and let his hands fall back to his sides. “Merlin’s shown more than enough knowledge about me for me to be sure. He even helped me with my timeline.”

Gaius’s eyes lost their penetrative sparkle. “In that case, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Merlin slid off his stool and offered his hand. “You as well. Thank you for helping him. It means a lot to me. To everyone that knew him.”

Gaius took Merlin's hand. “It was no trouble at all. Arthur’s been wonderful, a blessing really.”

Merlin felt a bit guilty then for wanting to take Arthur away from the old man, who clearly needed the help. But at the same time he couldn’t help feeling a bit selfish—he needed Arthur, too.

Gaius must have seen something to that effect in Merlin’s eyes, because he suddenly said, “Oh,” and stopped shaking Merlin’s hand abruptly.

“What?” Arthur asked.

Merlin could feel Gaius searching his face, his _eyes_ , and felt the same way he did when Alator tried to get him to admit a truth they both already knew. He looked away uncomfortably.

“Nothing,” Gaius said easily. “I’m just a bit thirsty. Would you mind putting those legs of yours to use and getting me a glass of water?”

Arthur went upstairs without a word, leaving Merlin alone with Gaius. Arthur’s footsteps weren’t even past the stairs when Gaius lowered his voice and addressed Merlin.

“You want him to go back.”

There was no use lying. “I was hoping, yes,” Merlin admitted. “But in my experience, nobody can make Arthur do anything he doesn’t want.”

“Have you told anyone else where he is or what’s happened to him?”

Merlin shook his head. “No. I wanted to see how much Arthur remembered and get a feel for what Arthur was like before telling anyone.”

Gaius nodded. “That’s for the best.”

“I’m sure our friends wouldn’t mind, though. It would be weird at first, but they’d love having him even if he was handicapped.” Well, Gwen and Lance would. Will would probably hate him just as much as Hunith did for sending Merlin into depression, but Merlin could talk to Will about it. And his mum didn’t know he’d tried to kill himself, or had been in a psychiatric hospital, so she’d be much easier to convince.

“I don’t doubt it,” Gaius said. “I’ve always thought he should try to communicate with those he left behind, and I urged him to at least pay a visit to his father. I believe he’s ready by now to move on from this old shop, but he seems content to stay and I didn’t want to make him feel as though I was kicking him out. If you can make him see there’s still a place for him in his old life, I think that would be wonderful.”

Merlin’s heart soared. He took hold of Gaius’s arm—because a hug would just be weird—and shook it gratefully. “Thank you so much. You have no idea what that means to me.”

Gaius smiled but then Arthur’s footsteps were on the stairs again and they both schooled their features. Arthur placed the glass of water on the counter and sat on his stool again.

“How long are you in the city for, Merlin?” Gaius asked, taking a sip.

“I’m leaving Wednesday afternoon. I can’t afford to miss any more days of work, unfortunately.”

“What brought you here in the first place?” Arthur questioned.

Merlin turned so Arthur was on his right side and Gaius on the left. “My mother’s birthday. She lives not too far from here.”

Arthur looked surprised. “Really? That’s a hell of a coincidence.”

“Well, she moved here rather recently, just after I got out of—” _Fuck, shit, no, shut up. Don’t say mental hospital, don’t say mental hospital._ “She’s only been living here about three years.”

“Huh. I’m surprised I haven’t seen her around.”

“To be honest she doesn’t venture far from home, I think. She goes to work, visits her friends...I actually don’t know what else she does besides that. We’ve sort of lost touch.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Why’s that?”

Merlin tapped a fingernail on the counter, lowering his eyes and shrugging. “Guess we just drifted apart. These things happen.”

“Can I meet her before you leave?”

“No.”

Arthur’s face looked a little hurt at the speed with which Merlin answered, so Merlin tried to give an explanation that wouldn’t reveal too much.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to see her,” he said. “She just...she doesn’t particularly care for you right now. Like everyone else, she doesn’t know about your amnesia.”

“She thinks I abandoned you,” Arthur stated flatly.

“Well—”

“And she’s right.”

“Um—”

“It’s fine, I get it. I suppose she’s not the only one to harbour some dislike towards me.”

“She won’t dislike you forever, I promise.”

“How can you promise that?”

Merlin made a snap decision before he could think too much about it. “Because I’m going to tell her about you,” he said. “If you’ll let me, that is. I’ll tell everyone what happened when I go back. They’ll understand.”

Arthur opened his mouth, no doubt to disagree, but Gaius put a hand on his shoulder. “I think you should consider it, Arthur. Not right away, of course,” he added, looking at Merlin, to which Merlin nodded in complete agreement. “But you’ve spent so much time and effort trying to piece together your past and not enough time confronting it. Don’t you think that might be a bit selfish?”

“I did it for _them_ ,” Arthur said in a small voice. Merlin knew that voice, Arthur’s insecure, uncertain voice, that made him sound like a child. “If I go back different—”

“They’ll understand. As Merlin said.”

Arthur looked from Gaius to Merlin and back again, obviously torn. “Alright, look, I’ll think about it. I know you’re probably dying to tell the others I’m not dead, so I’ll give you an answer some time before you leave,” he told Merlin.

Merlin smiled. “They’ll be so glad to hear you’re alright. And apparently less of an arse than before.”

Arthur chuckled dryly, rolling his eyes. “I bet.”

“Did you want to stay for dinner, Merlin?” Gaius asked. “The shop closes early on Sunday, so we could go out for something.”

Arthur gaped up at him. “We can’t afford—”

“Oh, do be quiet, boy, it’s my money,” Gaius shushed him. Arthur huffed. “What do you say, Merlin?”

Merlin didn’t want to let Arthur out of his sight just yet, and there really was nothing for him to do at the hotel.

“If you’re sure...”

“ _I’m_ sure,” Arthur said. “You should eat something. A lot of somethings.”

Merlin gave in easily. “Okay.”

♦ ♦ ♦

Dinner with Arthur and Gaius had proven more awkward than Merlin expected. Gaius asked more pointed questions than Arthur had, and Merlin found himself lying much more often. It got to the point where Merlin wanted to scream at him to just shut up already and let him bloody eat, and why did he care anyways, and why couldn’t he just leave him alone? Merlin had to take deep breaths to keep from throwing something at the old man, which shocked him, because the last time he’d been so violently angry was before he was hospitalised, and then again during his hospitalisation before they’d put him on medication. When it was finally time for Merlin to leave them, he was relieved. He could go back to the hotel and scream into a pillow or something.

He didn’t know what it was, why he was feeling so off-kilter and tetchy even when he had Arthur back. There was nothing to be upset about. But his hands kept twitching nervously and there was a feeling in the back of his mind that seemed to loom like a dark cloud, and he couldn’t shake himself of it. Wringing his hands, Merlin stared at the bottle of Xanax on the nightstand, wondering if this was some sort of anxiety attack brought on by the events of the dinner, of having to lie so much. He’d probably feel better if he took at least one...

Merlin grabbed fistfuls of his hair and shook his head. _No_. He didn’t need those stupid pills, not when he had Arthur. He wasn’t some dependent addict that had to take drugs to make himself feel better. He could do this, he could get past this, whatever it was. He wasn’t going to be depressed and anxious anymore.

Merlin kicked off his shoes and lay in the bed. He closed his eyes and tried to just breathe. When the light of the room illuminated his eyelids, he reached over to turn off the lamp and tried again.

_Just breathe, Merlin. Just calm down. Why are you even freaking out? There’s nothing wrong!_

That only worked to ease his nerves a little, so he did something else he hadn’t done since the hospital—he curled up on his side, wrapping his arms around himself, and pretended they were Arthur’s arms.

But now he knew he wouldn’t have to pretend for long. He’d have Arthur back soon. If Arthur didn’t remember, it would be a bit of a wait, but Merlin could look forward to it in the meantime. And if Arthur did remember, he might be angry that Merlin hadn’t told him right away, but then he’d probably be so relieved just to have Merlin there. Merlin smiled and thought up scenario after scenario of Arthur remembering, of him holding Merlin close and saying, “I love you, you idiot,” and “I could never forget you, not my Merlin.”

Merlin ended up falling asleep like that, probably because he hadn’t eaten so much at one time in a while and it sent him into a bit of a food coma. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d fallen asleep without the help of his medication, when intrusive thoughts didn’t keep him awake.

There were a couple times he awoke in the night, the first because he’d fallen asleep atop the duvet, and the second for no reason other than he was naturally a light sleeper. It took him a bit longer to get back to sleep the second time, and he tossed and turned, burying his head under the duvet when the sun started to come up. When his mobile rang, the sun was much higher, but it felt like only ten minutes had passed.

Merlin rubbed the sleep crust out of his eyes and felt his jeans for his mobile. Who would even ring him this early? And why had he been so stupid as to sleep in his clothes?

“Hello?” he croaked into the mic.

“Merlin?” It was Arthur, and he was talking fast. “Merlin, which hotel are you staying at? What’s the room number?”

“What? Um, the one that starts with a P? I’m not really sure actually. What time is it?”

“It’s almost eight o’clock. What room number, Merlin? I need to see you.”

Merlin scratched his head, racking his brains. “Three...three twelve. Is something wrong?”

“Everything’s fine, I think. I just...Did I wake you?”

Merlin made himself sit up and dropped his legs over the side of the bed. He felt heavy. “Yeah. But I went to sleep early so it’s alright. Did you remember something?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll know when I see you. I’ll be there in twenty minutes, okay?”

“Um. Okay.”

“Bye.”

Merlin stared at his mobile unblinkingly a few seconds. Arthur was coming. He should probably shower, or at least change his clothes and brush his teeth. But he didn’t feel like moving, let alone getting up, turning water on, stepping under, scrubbing...It felt like too much. Maybe he could just lay in bed for twenty minutes and then drag himself to the door when Arthur arrived.

Merlin let his phone slide from his hands and hit the floor with a dull thud. If this had been years ago, Merlin could get away with careless hygiene. Arthur wouldn’t care much if he smelled or if he didn’t move. But this Arthur still had to be impressed.

Merlin sighed and took his shirt off, letting that fall to the floor as well. Great. Now jeans. It was just a button and a zip, it shouldn’t be too hard.

Merlin undid the button and zip, and lifted himself just enough to slide his jeans down. He kicked his legs, shaking them off, until he sat just in his pants, socks, and wristbands. Merlin looked at the clock on the nightstand. How had five minutes passed already?

That did it. Merlin realised he only had fifteen minutes to shower, brush his teeth, get dressed, make his hair look at least somewhat decent. And if five minutes had gone by that quickly, the rest were going to zoom past. Merlin’s pulse suddenly quickened and he hurried to the bathroom with renewed vigour.

Looking in the mirror after his shower, Merlin wished he had bought a razor so he could shave, but it was too late now. He washed his mouth, got dressed, and was in the process of drying his hair when he heard three quick knocks on the door.

Merlin almost ran straight to it, but then caught sight of his meds on the nightstand and wheeled around to shove them in the drawer. He kicked his discarded clothes into the pile with the others and finally turned back to answer the door.

Arthur looked out of breath and had faint shadows under his eyes, but that was all Merlin could make out in the couple seconds before Arthur lunged forward and hugged him. Merlin gasped and tensed instinctively at the force of it. He’d forgot how strong Arthur’s arms were, how crushing his embraces could be.

But then he shakily exhaled, raising his arms slowly to hug Arthur back. He wrapped his arms around Arthur’s middle and breathed him in, smelling first the damp morning air and then the hidden scent of the antiques shop underneath. It wasn’t the way Merlin was used to Arthur smelling.

“I knew it,” Arthur whispered.

Merlin’s heart pumped so wildly he was sure Arthur could feel it. “Did you remember something?” Merlin asked again.

Arthur finally pulled away, his hands sliding down Merlin’s arms like he didn’t want to let go completely just yet. He stepped further into the room, making Merlin step back, so the door could close behind him.

“I wasn’t sure. It’s...Let’s sit down.”

Arthur took off his coat, setting it on the back of the desk chair, as Merlin went to sit on the bed. _Please remember, please remember_ , Merlin thought.

Arthur joined him on the bed, sitting nearly at end while Merlin sat by the pillows, before changing his mind and sliding over to sit close enough for their thighs to touch. Merlin looked at him again, wishing he would come right out and say whatever it was, if only to end the suspense.

“I dreamt of you last night,” Arthur said, not meeting Merlin’s eyes. “Of us having sex.” Arthur blushed, even though his expression didn’t change. “I didn’t think it was a memory, at first. Because, well, you’re—” He gestured to Merlin. “It wouldn’t be out of the question for me to have a dream like that about someone attractive.”

Merlin chuckled a little, and it seemed to give Arthur a bit more confidence.

“But then, I kept thinking about it. Ever since the cafe, every time I’ve touched you, it’s like...it’s like my body remembers, even if my mind doesn’t. Like I’ve _felt_ you before.” He finally raised his eyes, looking at Merlin intently. “Did we ever have sex, Merlin?”

Merlin swallowed hard. He tried to search Arthur’s features, gauge his readiness for the truth. He _wanted_ to give Arthur the truth, wanted to tell him about every moment they’d shared together. But yesterday, Arthur had asked if he’d been in a relationship and then quickly backed out, not wanting to know. Maybe it was best Merlin not tell him everything.

So Merlin decided. He would tell a half-truth, and they could work from there, build a new relationship on this foundation. If Arthur remembered the rest on his own, brilliant. But Merlin wasn’t going to tell him how in love they’d been before. Arthur would only hate himself for what he’d done.

“Yes.”

Arthur exhaled, his shoulders sagging, but then he furrowed his brow. “You said we were best friends.”

Merlin smiled sheepishly. “We had a few benefits.”

“Oh.” Arthur was quiet a few seconds, and Merlin could only hope he was going to ask what he thought he was about to ask. “Can we still have those benefits?”

Merlin really couldn’t help himself then, not with Arthur shyly asking for sex like it was their first time. He raised a hand to Arthur’s face, touching it like he’d wanted to for nearly five years, like he had in his dreams, and leaned forward to press their lips together. He was so glad when Arthur let him, when a hand curved around the back of Merlin’s neck and encouraged him to deepen the kiss.

“Absolutely,” Merlin said.

Arthur kissed him hard then, pushing Merlin back onto the bed until his weight was holding him down. Merlin didn’t mind. He wanted Arthur atop him, grinding against him desperately like this. It took a few seconds to register, but then Merlin heard the thud of Arthur’s shoes hitting the floor as he kicked them off, and he thought _Yes!_ and _Finally_ and _Arthur_.

Arthur moved down to Merlin’s neck and Merlin arched his back, turning his head to give Arthur more skin. He sort of felt like he was going to cry; he couldn’t believe Arthur was here with him and they were doing this, that he could feel Arthur’s spine beneath his fingertips like he’d never left, and that Arthur was ravaging his throat just as hungrily as he’d always done. Merlin hooked a leg around Arthur’s calf, trying to pulling him closer, and squeezed his eyes shut as Arthur’s thigh rubbed over his cock.

“I missed you so much, Arthur.”

Merlin hadn’t even realised he’d said it—or brokenly whispered it, rather—until Arthur raised his head to look at him with anguished eyes. Merlin made himself hold Arthur’s gaze even though he felt exposed, like he’d given everything away with five words.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur murmured. He kissed Merlin again, this time pushing his tongue forward, and Merlin opened for him, resolving not to say anything else from then on.

It was after their shirts had been thrown over the side of the bed that Merlin remembered he didn’t have lube or anything. And since Arthur hadn’t had sex in the same amount of time, he probably didn’t either.

“I don’t have—”

“I bought some on the way,” Arthur said. “Just in case.”

Merlin smiled at the thought of Arthur nervously buying lube and condoms, not sure if he’d need it or not. He let Arthur pull his jeans off, which were so tight they took his pants along with them, and Arthur abruptly stopped.

Merlin quit smiling then. Arthur ran a hand almost hesitantly over Merlin’s chest, down to his navel, barely letting his fingertips graze Merlin’s skin. Merlin looked down at himself, not at his hard cock, enlarged and laying on his stomach, but at the other things that must have made Arthur stop so suddenly: his thin chest, his protruding ribs and hip bones, his bony arms and legs.

Merlin took an unsteady breath, his chest heaving with the weight of it. “Am I...Am I ugly?” he asked, holding back emotion. He would understand if Arthur thought he was. He thought it himself.

Arthur rubbed a thumb over a hip bone and leaned forward to kiss the middle of Merlin’s chest, the hard plate of his sternum. “No.”

Merlin’s eyes fluttered closed in relief and he exhaled again. He felt Arthur kiss each of his collarbones before pulling away to empty his pockets and rid himself of his own trousers.

As soon as he was naked, he was back on top of Merlin again, kissing with much more tongue and much less coordination as he slid his cock next to Merlin’s between their stomachs. Only now he wasn’t pressing down as hard, wasn’t letting his weight push Merlin deep into the bed like Merlin needed him to, even when Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur’s torso and tried to hug him closer.

“You won’t break me,” Merlin said breathlessly, arching his spine again. “I’m much sturdier than I look.”

Arthur jerked his hips forward with a grunt, setting Merlin’s groin aflame from the friction, and slid a hand from Merlin’s thigh to his arse and back, holding him, squeezing him. He dug his splayed fingers into Merlin’s skin and sucked at Merlin’s neck again, kissing up to his jaw as he frotted against him. His face would be red from Merlin’s stubble.

Merlin did his fair share of clutching as well. His hands scrabbled at Arthur’s back, his fingers curling and uncurling against the warm skin that was starting to sweat from the effort. Arthur used to love when Merlin would squeeze his arse but Merlin wasn’t sure if he was still allowed that liberty, so he’d kept his hands mostly above the waist.

Then Merlin became a bit impatient, because while this was nice, being skin to skin with Arthur again, Arthur was still treating it like their first time, and Merlin didn’t want that. He wanted Arthur inside him, panting in his ear as he fucked him as unreservedly as he did before.

So Merlin took a chance, let his hand drift lower and grab a fistful of Arthur’s arse. “Come on, Arthur.” _Quit holding back, fuck me rough, just like you used to._

Arthur made some sort of incoherent noise that was a bit like “nguh” but finally seemed to get the message. He pulled back and reached for the packet of lube he’d put aside earlier, tearing it open with quick fingers. Merlin shifted backward a bit, until his head nearly touched the headboard, and spread his legs wider.

His shifting was quickly undone when Arthur hooked his arms under Merlin’s knees and pulled him forward again. He slicked Merlin’s arse with two lubed fingers then moved to pick up the condom. He’d only half ripped the foil open when he dropped it and decided to put his fingers back to Merlin’s hole instead, then thought better of _that_ and picked up the condom again.

Merlin chuckled. “Make up your mind, would you?”

“Oh shut up, it’s been a few years. And I don’t want to hurt you if it’s been a while for you too, so—”

“It has been.”

Merlin hadn’t even touched _himself_ in those four years, to be honest. It might have been because of his medication making him lose interest in sex, but Merlin didn’t know if that was entirely it. And it probably wouldn’t have been a very good experience even if he’d tried. It would have been too sad.

“Okay then,” Arthur said, putting down the condom once more. He glanced up at Merlin quickly before pushing a slippery finger in, and Merlin tried to relax himself.

He closed his eyes and exhaled happily. He’d always loved the feel of Arthur’s fingers working him open, feeling him from the inside. He wrapped a hand around his cock and started to stroke, lifting his hips a little and letting the pain give way to pleasure. A whiny “oh fuck, yeah” escaped when Arthur pressed against his prostate.

The next time Arthur picked up the condom, it was for good. Strangely, as Arthur slid it on, lubed it up a little more, and shuffled forward on his knees to line up, Merlin’s thoughts went to his friends. If only they knew what Merlin was doing now, _who_ he was doing, and how happy he finally was.

Then Merlin snapped back to the present when he felt Arthur’s cock nudging his entrance. He shot his hand out to Arthur’s arm, grabbing hold of him and biting his own lip as Arthur pushed slowly in.

“Do you want me to—”

“What the hell are you doing, keep _going_ , you idiot!” Merlin exclaimed when Arthur stopped. He’d taken this before, and he’d told Arthur as much, even if Arthur didn’t remember himself. Arthur really needed to stop thinking Merlin was so fragile.

Arthur chuckled breathlessly and kept going. “Just checking. No need to yell.”

“S-Sorry,” Merlin said, feeling a stab of remorse for snapping. “It’s just, we _have_ done this before. Yeah, it’s been a while, but that doesn’t mean you have to be quite so gentle. You used to give it to me rather hard, in fact.”

Arthur’s hips jerked suddenly, thrusting the rest of the way in, as his breath seemed to leave his lungs all at once. His eyes were wide, the black pupils nearly swallowing the blue.

“Jesus, Merlin, don’t say things like that when I’m trying not to come,” he gasped out.

Merlin gave a short laugh and took a few deep breaths to calm himself, not just because of the sudden force with which Arthur had sheathed himself, but because of the rising emotion threatening to overwhelm him again.

“I-I used to give it to you rather hard as well,” Merlin said hoarsely.

Arthur made a sound that was part bitten-off moan and part whimper, and Merlin felt it when Arthur’s arse clenched at his words. His own arse was still in pain a bit but he rolled his hips up a little anyways, urging Arthur to get on with it. He slid his hands over Arthur’s shoulders as Arthur started up a slow rhythm.

It was really quite pathetic, but even as Arthur sped up and grabbed hold of Merlin’s thighs again to thrust into him harder and deeper, Merlin had to tell himself not to cry. His mind flitted back and forth between the intense pleasure of this moment and the darkness of the past—nights laying awake in the mental hospital remembering these exact sounds of exertion, days spent numb trying to forget the feeling of curling his fingers in this soft head of blond hair. And now he had it again, had Arthur alive, hot and thick inside him, had his tongue down Arthur’s throat the way he was meant to. He was so fucking happy that those days and nights were behind him, that he wouldn’t have to be numb ever again.

So yes, he cried a little, one tear from each eye when he tried to blink them away, because the juxtaposition of then and now was just too much. Arthur saw the tears—because how could he not at such close proximity—but seemed to understand, wiping them away without comment. He took the hand responsible and started stroking Merlin’s cock between them, making Merlin laugh at the idea of his tears as makeshift lubricant. Arthur smiled back and kissed one of his cheekbones. _You see_ , Merlin thought. _You always know how to make me laugh._

He only laughed so long though, because Arthur’s hand, as well as Arthur himself, increased speed again, his cock retreating shorter distances before plunging back in. Arthur pulled away, leaning back on his heels a little for better coordination, and his hand was a blur over Merlin’s cock. Merlin tightened his grip on Arthur’s arms as he moaned, sure his fingernails were digging into skin, but not able to care or think about much of anything past the blinding heat about to shoot from his dick.

“Ah, God, Merlin, come on,” Arthur panted as he snapped his hips just that little bit harder. “Just—”

The rest of Arthur’s statement was lost because Merlin was already there, had already gone tense and thrown his head back with a silent scream, spurting over Arthur’s fingers. Even through the intensity, Merlin felt the moment that Arthur let himself go, cock throbbing inside him. When Arthur pulled out, Merlin expected to feel the loss painfully, not just in his arse, but his entire body, and was glad when that feeling didn’t come. He felt only satisfied and whole again, no longer broken.

Arthur collapsed next to him after throwing the condom in the small bin by the nightstand. “Fuck,” he said, still breathless. “That hard enough for you?”

Merlin chuckled. “Could’ve done a bit harder, but maybe that’s because of the position. I’ll turn on my stomach next time, have you pound me into the mattress.”

Arthur elbowed him, but laughed nonetheless. Merlin saw him glance over in his peripheral vision, as if contemplating something, then roll over onto his side. He raised his left hand hesitantly, not sure if he was allowed, before finally trailing the tip of his index finger over the pale skin of Merlin’s messy stomach.

And then he pinched the leather of Merlin’s black wristband, lifting it and making it snap back to Merlin’s wrist where his hands were folded across his chest. Merlin’s heart jumped into his throat.

“You ever take these off?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah. At night and when I shower.”

“But not when you fuck?”

Merlin nudged Arthur’s foot with his toe. “You didn’t take your socks off. I don’t see how it’s any different.”

Arthur grunted. “Fair enough.”

Merlin sat up and slid off the bed, going to the loo for a flannel to clean his stomach before Arthur could ask him to do something like take them off and show him his wrists. When he got back, Arthur was sitting cross-legged, an elbow on his knee with his chin in his hand.

“Why were we never more than friends with benefits?” Arthur asked. “I mean, did we not even try?”

Merlin shrugged as he picked up his and Arthur’s pants from the floor before tossing Arthur his. “Guess it just worked for us so we didn’t mess with it.”

“How did it even start?”

Merlin gave him an amused look. “Arthur, maybe you missed the part where I mentioned we were the two gay blokes in our group of friends. How could it not start?”

Arthur chuckled. “True.”

But Arthur’s smile slowly disappeared as he traced an imaginary pattern in the white duvet, his lips pursing with thought. Merlin sighed after slipping into his pants and sat beside him on the bed again. He didn’t like lying to the man he loved, and had to remind himself why he was doing it to prevent himself from spilling everything.

“What now?” Merlin asked.

“Did I want something more, d’you think? To be more than just...this?” He gestured between them.

Merlin had to look away when Arthur raised his eyes to look at him. “I don’t know.”

“Did _you_ want something more?”

Merlin didn’t say anything.

“Merlin, I don’t know who I was back then, but I want to try now. Would that be too weird for you?”

Merlin wanted to jump up and down and shout _No that wouldn’t be weird at all, I love you, I’m yours, you already have all of me, just take me back!_ But he told himself to think logically, to be reasonable. What would his friends and Alator say?

“No, but how would that work?” Merlin asked. “With the distance?”

Arthur frowned. “Huh. I didn’t exactly think that through.”

“I mean, we could visit—”

“No, I’d hate doing that,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “Not to mention it’d be expensive. One of us would have to move, and I can’t ask you to abandon the others the same way I did.”

Merlin’s stomach fluttered. Was Arthur already considering coming back? And so soon? Merlin hadn’t even hoped to achieve _that_ much with this visit, and it was only the third day.

It seemed Arthur was of the same mind, because he groaned and rubbed his temples. “God, I see some man in a bookshop and everything turns upside down. This is complete and utter madness, even considering this.”

“We don’t have to, you know,” Merlin made himself say, at least for Arthur’s sake. “We could stay just mates, make the distance thing easier without romantic feelings getting in the way.”

Arthur’s frown deepened. “I _guess_. But it’s like...I dunno, it’s like something pulling me toward you, like a magnet. Fuck, if I could just _remember_ , then it wouldn’t be like I’m jumping out of my life to go be with someone I just met.”

“Well,” Merlin began. “It looks to me like we don’t have much of a choice. I certainly don’t want you to make any hasty decisions, so maybe we should just wait a bit. You can come visit me and the others, see how you like it, and if all goes well, we’ll take it from there.”

Arthur nodded, then abruptly stopped. “Shit, I could never do that to Gaius, though.”

“Don’t worry about Gaius.” Arthur looked at him appalled, so Merlin amended himself. “He _may_ have asked me to try to get you to come around to the idea of going back. He just didn’t want you to feel as though he was kicking you out.”

Arthur snorted, smiling. “Of course.”

Merlin saw him shiver a little and that’s when Arthur finally stuck his legs out to put his pants on. He hesitated a second, glancing at Merlin, then slid off the bed for the rest of his clothes.

“I really hate to ask this,” Arthur said as he buttoned his trousers, not meeting Merlin’s eyes. “But I’m not exactly as well off as you say I used to be. It could take me a while to save—”

“It’s not a problem at all. Like I said, you bought us drinks all the time. Paying for you to visit would be nothing.”

Arthur looked around the room warily. “And...a hotel?”

Merlin almost laughed aloud. “Don’t be ridiculous, you’d stay with me. On the sofa, if you want, though you’d probably prefer my bed.” Merlin was already a little giddy knowing he’d be sharing a bed with Arthur again.

Arthur exhaled in relief. “Yeah. Okay. And the same goes for you, you know,” he added, waving a hand to indicate the room. “You’ve got, what, two nights left? You could check out early if you like and come stay with me. My bed’s not exactly the most comfortable but—”

“That’d be great.”

Arthur smiled. “Great.” He pulled his top over his head and bent over to pick up his shoes. “I have to go back to the shop, but you know how it is, not very busy. I mostly do inventory and book-balancing, which, you know, is loads of fun. But my point is, once you’ve got your things packed up, you can come by whenever. You won’t be interrupting anything important.”

“Okay.”

Arthur straightened up from tying his shoes and looked blankly at Merlin a few seconds, hesitating. “Right, so, do I kiss you goodbye, or—”

Merlin laughed. “You can if you want to. I definitely won’t stop you.”

Arthur smiled again and Merlin tilted his face up as Arthur leaned in to kiss him. It was a single peck on the lips, making Merlin arch an eyebrow, so then Arthur did it again, and again, until finally he just kept his lips there and kissed him properly.

Arthur groaned a little when Merlin introduced tongue into the mix, and pushed forward until Merlin was leaning back on his hands, nearly straddling him as he dropped a knee to the bed. Merlin licked the inside of Arthur’s lip and was planning to go much deeper when suddenly Arthur’s tongue shoved its way inside Merlin’s mouth. Merlin made a low noise in his throat and puckered his lips around it, sealing their mouths together to suck the wet muscle greedily. Arthur’s fingers slid up Merlin’s neck into his hair and gave a little pull, tilted his head back to better the angle.

Then suddenly Arthur pulled away, breathing just as hard as Merlin and with lips as glistening pink.

“I’ll never leave at this rate, Merlin,” he panted. But even then he pressed more quick kisses to Merlin’s lips, sucking the bottom one between his own. “And Gaius is going to know I’ve been snogging someone when I go back with beard burn.”

Merlin laughed at the thought of Gaius’s discerning eye peering at Arthur’s rosy skin, Arthur all stoic and uncomfortable under the scrutiny, and Merlin’s laughter effectively ended the kiss. Arthur finally retreated, letting his hand leave Merlin’s hair with a flick to the ear as a parting gesture.

“I’m so glad you find that funny.”

Merlin reined in his laughter, shaking his head. “I’ll see you later, Arthur. In a few hours, probably.”

“Later, Merlin,” he said, taking his coat from the chair and putting his arms in. He looked over his shoulder as he opened the door. “And please eat something. Even if you aren’t hungry. Seriously.”

Merlin nodded as Arthur closed the door behind him, but he doubted he’d do it. How could he? There was so much to think about, to plan for. Arthur was going to visit him at home, for one, and for two, he was going to be sleeping with Arthur again. Actual sleeping, curled up at night with him and everything! Feeding himself was the furthest thing from his mind.

In fact, Merlin’s mind had started going from four years ago to now and back, just as it had before. Only now he didn’t compare it to the darkness, he compared it to all the time spent at each other’s flats, how they’d practically already lived together. There had been burnt breakfast in bed because Arthur couldn’t cook, and morning-breath kisses, and lazy shags, and whole afternoons spent just laying in bed.

They were going to have all that again. They were already well on their way to having _all_ that again, and Merlin could feel the bliss of the past like he was right there experiencing it. He was so happy he could quite literally jump for joy.

Even as he dressed and his gaze passed over his wristbands, it didn’t dampen his mood. He could just wear them to sleep for a few weeks, wait for the more recent scars to fade, and make sure Arthur never saw his bare wrists under extreme light after that. And he wouldn’t want to cut anymore, the same way he wouldn’t need that stupid numbing medication anymore, and everything would be just how it was before.

He wanted to ring Gwen and the others—even Alator—and tell them everything. He wanted to show them how well he had handled it, how he hadn’t hugged the breath out of Arthur or broken down crying when he’d seen him. How he’d gone about it in the most strategic way possible, cleverly making a place for himself in Arthur’s life again. He even wanted to maybe thank the doctors that had saved his life, because it was a good thing he hadn’t ended up dying after all.

Merlin hadn’t even realised he’d been standing in the middle of the room just thinking until ten minutes passed. He looked up suddenly, blinking away daydreams of the future, and tried to remember what he’d been about to do.

He was going to check out of the hotel later today, but first he needed another bag, because the clothes he’d bought wouldn’t fit in his small rucksack. He’d go to the train station, purchase a ticket for Wednesday, buy a second bag on the way back to the hotel, check out, then go round to the antiques shop.

Merlin raised a hand to his face, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. Maybe he’d buy a cheap razor and shave before checking out of the hotel. Though he hadn’t used anything other than his electric shaver in a while, and it would be a pain. Still, he should at least make the effort. Alator _was_ always saying that a lack of hygiene indicated a lack of caring which in turn indicated depression and low self-esteem.

With a suitable plan in place, Merlin nodded once—to no one in particular—and threw on his jacket, checking his wallet to make sure he had the room key before walking out.

♦ ♦ ♦

He’d got the ticket. He’d got the bag. Now he was in Boots staring at the selection of razors and he was definitely having a problem.

It hadn’t started out as a problem. He had picked up the shaving cream easily enough. He’d simply been searching for a single razor, not one that came in a pack of three or five or seven, but one _single_ razor that he could toss out after it served its purpose. And then he got to the replacements. The electric shaver heads. The extra accessories. The razor blades.

 _No_ , he told himself. His hands twitched, wanting to pull the package off the shelf and make a run for it. He balled them into fists. _No._

This entire thing was stupid. He wasn’t numb now; there was no tension to let out. He had Arthur back; he wasn’t depressed. So why the hell couldn’t he just take two steps to the left to get what he needed and leave? Why the hell was he _itching_ to do this?

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, hoping maybe a few seconds of being out of sight would take it out of mind. That just made things worse. He saw the blade dragging across his skin, opening a vein, blood beading up and oozing out. God, it would feel so good—

He snapped his eyes open. _No_ , he thought angrily. _You stupid fuck, what’s wrong with you?_

He took a deep breath and tried to think of Arthur. Arthur’s lips on his, Arthur’s cock inside him, Arthur’s fingers dancing across his stomach. Arthur’s smile, Arthur’s laugh, Arthur’s hair.

_What else do you do besides wear all black? Cut yourself and write bad poetry?_

No. Merlin had never done any of that before. Arthur had always joked about Merlin’s style of dress, teased him if his fringe ever got long enough to cover his eyes, but it was even less funny now. Merlin had taken it in stride back then, because he’d never imagined he would be here. He hadn’t been able to understand why anyone would harm themselves over and over, and had never thought it would happen to him. Even Will had laughed and made jokes, Gwen being the only one to ever say such a thing was no laughing matter.

Now, staring at razor blades in Boots, it was almost comical. Ha ha. How ironic.

“Can I help you find anything, sir?”

Merlin blinked and looked at the source of the voice. Judging by the white top of her uniform, it was some girl that worked there, her light brown hair in a braided ponytail hung over her shoulder. She had lots of acne, and lots of makeup trying to cover it, and Merlin felt her hazel eyes on him as though they were looking straight through him.

“Um. No, thanks,” he said. He reached for the single razor he’d come for in the first place and took it from the shelf. “I just...need this.”

She kept staring at him, her thin lips tilting down a little at the corner. Merlin felt extremely uncomfortable. And she was just a _teenager._

Finally, he stepped to the side, making to walk past her to the counter. She followed him, blocking his path, and Merlin furrowed his brow.

She seemed to hesitate, but then made up her mind. She pulled off one of her bracelets and held it out to him. Merlin took it gingerly between his thumb and forefinger, raising it to his eyes, and saw it was just an ordinary elastic band.

“Uh, thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” she said quickly and scurried off.

Merlin looked over his shoulder after her. What the hell was that about?

Merlin shoved the band into his pocket and shrugged it off. There were only three things left on his list: shave, check out of the hotel, and go to Albion’s. He really hoped shaving wouldn’t be as difficult as this had proven to be.

♦ ♦ ♦

Shaving was rather easier than Merlin thought. After the first slow drag down his face, collecting the bristly hair, any other use for the razor besides its current one became unappealing. He’d always been particular about the cleanliness of the razor blades he used for cutting. Even the one he kept under his pillow he washed before putting back. He had no interest in slicing open his skin with something so dirty. Which was refreshing.

By the time he was clean-shaven, packed up, checked out of the hotel, and on his way to Albion’s and Arthur, Merlin had worked himself back up to his previous positive mindset. It was still so surreal thinking to himself that he was going to see Arthur, let alone sleep with him, kiss him, date him. Merlin was sure he was smiling like a lunatic when he finally walked into the shop.

Arthur poked his head out from behind a stack of old books, having heard the door. “Merlin!” he exclaimed happily.

Merlin’s heart pumped a little faster at the pleasure in Arthur’s voice. “I’m back,” Merlin said. “And I’ve brought my stuff.”

“And you’ve taken away the source of my extreme embarrassment,” Arthur added, poking Merlin’s face. “Gaius wasn’t even angry at me for opening late this morning. He was entirely too pleased, actually.” Arthur took one of Merlin’s bags. “Come on, let’s put your things upstairs.”

Merlin followed him through the shop as he had the day before. Arthur put the notebook and pen in his hands down on the counter on the way, and led Merlin up the narrow stairs to his flat.

“There’s a television in the next room over,” Arthur said, putting Merlin’s bag down on the bed. “The way to the loo is through there as well. Don’t ask me who designed the layout of this place, it’s a complete mystery to me.”

Merlin chuckled. “‘Kay.”

“There’s no wifi, so yes, that is an internet cord in the computer. If you want to use it, just be patient with it. It’s really slow.”

Merlin grinned. “I’m patient with you, aren’t I?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, laughing a little. “Right, well, I’ll be downstairs. If you get bored up here, you can, I dunno, play with the trinkets down there or something.” He was about to turn and leave Merlin to it, when he paused, narrowing his eyes. “Did you eat anything?”

Merlin looked down sheepishly. “Er...”

“ _Mer_ lin.”

“I forgot. It’s only been like...almost three hours? You can hardly be angry at me for skipping breakfast. _Nobody_ eats breakfast.”

“That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard. Look, just—try to eat something. I’ll be downstairs.” Arthur left quickly, his heavy footsteps loud on the wooden stairs.

Merlin moved his bag over and sat on the bed. It felt as lumpy as it looked, the centre of the mattress curved in an Arthur-shaped divot. Merlin leaned over and pressed his nose into the pillow, inhaling deeply. It didn’t smell like much, just like...pillow. He slid over a little and put his nose to the bedsheet. That smelled more familiar, like sweat. Did Arthur still sometimes sweat in his sleep? Did he still snore softly?

Merlin’s heart skipped when he remembered what Arthur had said he’d dreamt of last night. No wonder Arthur had been sweating. In _this_ bed...

Merlin sat back up and stared across the room at the chart on the wall. He wondered how many times Arthur had done the same thing. Probably a lot. Arthur had always liked knowing everything there was to know about something that concerned himself and those around him. It was no wonder he’d spent so much time and effort on his timeline. Needing to fill in the gaps in his memory had probably driven him nearly mad at first.

Merlin leaned back, slumping against the wall behind him with a sigh. He wished he could have been there for Arthur when it had happened. He wished Arthur had reached out for _someone_ to help him instead of trying to figure things out on his own. It would have made both their lives easier. Merlin wouldn’t be so fucked up and he wouldn’t have to lie to Arthur about never having loved him before.

And he could only imagine what it was like to wake up and know nothing, not even your name. Merlin didn’t know much about amnesia, just what he’d seen in films, but they always portrayed it as some harrowing experience where the person ran around tearing their hair out and screaming “I don’t know who I am!” At least Arthur had been coherent enough to look at his wallet and get taken to a hospital. Now Merlin just wondered what it was like for Arthur to stare at his timeline, knowing he had a past, but knowing so little of it.

Looking around the room, Merlin figured it was no wonder Arthur was reluctant to leave. He’d done well for himself considering the circumstances. Sure he was poor, even more poor than Merlin, but he seemed to like his situation. It was simultaneously like and unlike Arthur.

Merlin pushed himself up and slid into the hard chair in front of the computer. It wasn’t even one of those flatscreen monitors, but one of the old bulky desktops. Merlin pushed the power button on the hard drive, not even sure it would turn on.

It was only when he got past the loading screen that he realised he didn’t know what he’d do once he got to the internet anyways. He hadn’t used a computer for more than checking his email in a while, and used his mobile for anything else.

Merlin turned the computer off again and folded his arms on top of the desk. He dropped his chin to his wrist, wincing at the hard contact of his studded wristband against his jawbone, and sighed, bored. What had Arthur said he did for fun again?

Maybe there was something in the drawer, like, Merlin didn’t know, a rubik’s cube or something. A book of crossword puzzles. Anything. Merlin opened the thin drawer above his legs, the wood noisily protesting against the movement, and deflated when all he saw was a battered spiral notebook and a few pens.

Then Merlin remembered what Arthur had said the day before. _The doctors told me to keep a journal at first._ Was this notebook Arthur’s journal?

Merlin picked it up, not feeling guilty in the slightest. He didn’t see any reason to, and why would he? He’d been Arthur’s lover, after all. They’d told each other everything, for the most part. There was nothing Merlin didn’t know.

The first page was blank except for one sentence in the middle, the pen strokes of the letters repeated in order to bolden the words, emphasise the question. Merlin’s breath hitched in his throat when he read it.

**_WHERE WERE YOU GOING?_ **

Merlin turned the page, wondering if there was an answer to the question that had plagued him for so long as well. There wasn’t, but there was a table.

 

_ things I liked:  _

_\- men_

_\- comedies_

_\- sun_

_\- football_

_\- red_

_ things I didn’t like: _

_\- loud music_

_\- cold_

_\- ice skating_

_\- small children_

_\- waking up early_

 

Some things had obviously been added later since they were in different coloured-ink, and Merlin wondered how much time had passed between every recollection. Had it taken him a while to compile just this short list of things?

There were other tables on a couple other pages, such as things Arthur liked now in comparison to what he used to like. For example, he used to like playing football, and now he only really liked watching it. Some pages weren’t tables, but just lists, and things had been checked off on the side. One was a list of food Arthur had tried, and checked off the dishes he liked. Another was a list of hobbies and entertainment, where Merlin noticed Arthur’s apparent appreciation of theatre was checked off.

And then there were the memories, passages that read like short stories, with dialogue and everything. Other pages just had short quotes that Arthur remembered, one or two sentences from his past with no context. Merlin laughed when he saw his own words, one of the first things he’d said to Arthur: “Have you always been such an arse?” He laughed again when he saw another old quote of his further down the page: “I swear to God, she named her iPhone ‘Kitty.’ Like she’s fucking Anne Frank or something.”

Merlin must have spent nearly an hour reading the journal. Like Arthur had said, the memories started coming less and less, and the dates at the top of the pages that held memory excerpts confirmed that. Merlin wasn’t sure how much later little things like what Arthur had liked or disliked and short snippets of conversations had stopped, but there were a lot of extra pages left in the notebook.

Arthur had apparently tried writing in it as a normal journal for a short while before giving up entirely. Merlin could imagine Arthur growing tired of doing something that wasn’t helping at all, not seeing the point anymore. Merlin himself often didn’t see the point of his monthly visits to Alator, especially when the man only wrote prescriptions refills every three sessions. The therapy part didn’t do much of anything.

For a moment, Merlin entertained the thought of filling the notebook with his own short stories from Arthur’s past. Arthur would be so surprised the next time he went to open it, if he did at all.

But reading a journal and adding to it were two completely different things. Merlin closed the notebook and put it back in the drawer. His stomach growled and he figured he should try to do as Arthur told him, find something in the kitchen to eat.

♦ ♦ ♦

The first complication in staying with Arthur arose when Merlin had to take his sleeping pill, the only one of his medications he still felt comfortable taking. Arthur had already started falling asleep on the sofa in the small living area as they watched telly, his head drooping onto Merlin’s shoulder. Pretty soon Arthur would yawn and suggest they go to bed, and there wouldn’t be a way Merlin could open his bag, take out a pill, and go to the kitchen for a drink without Arthur noticing.

So Merlin ended up awake most of the first night, staring ahead at the chart across the room with Arthur’s warmth at his back. He was happy there for the most part, glad to be back in Arthur’s arms at night with Arthur’s soft snores in his ear. But after about twenty minutes of smiling and bliss, a sinking feeling began settling in, and he remembered that after tomorrow night, he’d be back in his own flat, alone, with Arthur far away once more.

Would it be worse, knowing that Arthur was his again but not being able to feel him? Merlin hadn’t easily forgot the feeling of Arthur’s arms around him, hadn’t been able to sleep properly for the first year because he could still feel Arthur’s ghost. Would that same sensation return, of being able to feel but not feel the person who was meant to be there with him?

Merlin curled in on himself, pushing back further into Arthur’s chest and hugging the arm draped around him desperately. He didn’t want to let this go, not now, not in two days, not ever. He’d told Arthur not to rush into a decision, but that had been in the light of day, after they’d fucked and everything had been fine. Everything was not fine at night. Everything was dark and foreboding. Merlin rubbed his face against the back of Arthur’s hand and cried silently, wishing he could fall asleep.

He hadn’t got much rest by the time Arthur’s alarm sounded, and groaned at the noise, burying deeper into the duvet. Arthur whispered, “Sorry, sorry,” nearly squishing Merlin beneath his weight as he climbed over him to get out of bed and turn it off. Thankfully, Merlin was able to simply roll over and go back to sleep.

When he woke up again, his mobile said it was almost one in the afternoon. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. What did that even mean, one o’clock? What day was it? How long had he been here? Time had to be moving, but it certainly didn’t feel like it.

Merlin heard voices downstairs and remembered where he was. He was in Arthur’s bed. In Arthur’s flat. Almost two miles from his mum’s house.

He was breathing. He was laying. There was a ceiling above him. He blinked. He swallowed. He felt dead.

When his mobile rang, piercing through the silence, he didn’t even jump. After a few seconds, he turned his head to look at where it sat on top of his rumpled jeans on the floor. It kept ringing. And ringing.

Maybe he should answer it. But that required moving, and Merlin didn’t think he was up for that right now.

Finally, it stopped. Merlin kept staring at it, watched the lit screen with “Missed Call” across the top go black and silent. He didn’t move his gaze because even that felt like too much.

And then it started ringing again. He groaned and rubbed the heels of his hands in his eyes before he finally just reached over and picked it up, half his body sliding out of bed to the floor.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Merlin? It’s Nimueh.”

 _Fuuuuuuck._ “Oh. Hi. Sorry I didn’t call earlier. I’m not feeling well. It’s, uh, personal stuff. It honestly slipped my mind.”

She was quiet a moment, no doubt remembering the last time he’d missed work for “personal stuff,” which in that case had been for almost a year. She’d cut him a lot of slack since then, since he’d returned from the hospital completely different, and Merlin hoped she’d give him the same privilege this time.

“Is it serious?” she asked. “Are you alright?”

Just then Merlin heard the hollow thud of footsteps on wooden stairs, Arthur coming up for lunch probably, and hoped the mic didn’t pick up the sound.

“I should be fine in a couple days,” Merlin said, trying to speak quickly but not too quickly. “I just didn’t want to risk my mood upsetting any customers or preventing me from staying focused. But it’s not...it’s not like before. I’m sure I’ll be feeling better by Thursday at the latest.”

Arthur walked into the room just as Merlin finished his last sentence, and raised a brow. Merlin realised he was still half in bed, his torso spilling onto the floor, and let his legs fall with a dull thud. Arthur snorted, but didn’t say anything since Merlin was still on the phone.

“Take as long as you need, Merlin,” Nimueh said. “But you’ll have to make up the hours over the next few weekends.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Feel better, Merlin. Bye.”

Merlin ended the call and Arthur tilted his head, smirking. “Calling in sick? Really?”

Merlin pushed himself up into a sitting position, still not wanting to move much but figuring he ought to, at least for Arthur.

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t plan on staying this long before?”

Merlin scratched his head and stretched, yawning. “Yeah, well, when you suddenly see a mate who’s been missing for four years, everything else seems sort of unimportant.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Merlin got up, brushing dust from the back of his pants. “What’s for lunch?”

♦ ♦ ♦

The second complication arose the second night, the last night before Merlin was to leave. Arthur had pinched the top of Merlin’s wristband again while they were watching telly, and made some remark about Merlin not having taken them off for sleep after all.

“I’m starting to wonder if you even have wrists,” Arthur said.

Merlin raised his hand, palm facing himself, and slid the wristband down enough to bare the outside where the hair lay flat from being covered so long. “See? I have wrists.” He slid the band back up and discouraged any further questions with a sudden kiss.

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, but then he relaxed into it, which was made easier when Merlin slid a hand over his thigh toward his groin. Arthur gasped and Merlin pushed his tongue into the newly opened space, making Arthur let out a soft moan. Arthur’s hands came up and tugged Merlin’s shirt, pulling Merlin on top of him as he slid to the side and leaned back onto the cushion.

There was no way Arthur was thinking about Merlin’s stupid wrists now, and even better, Merlin wasn’t going to spend his last night just watching some boring programme as Arthur drifted off beside him.

Arthur pushed Merlin’s shirt up, running his hands up Merlin’s back, until finally Merlin leaned back into a kneeling position and pulled his top off completely. Arthur breathed heavily beneath him, touching Merlin’s stomach and waist and looking up at Merlin like he was the most delicious thing in the world and he wanted to devour him.

Merlin placed his hands over Arthur’s and made him touch harder, not just exploring fingertips but the whole palm, showing Arthur what he was allowed. Arthur glanced up at Merlin, as though asking permission, like besides the fact that this wasn’t new and that they’d had sex in the hotel room, he still needed to be sure.

But then he surged forward hungrily and latched his mouth onto the skin just above Merlin’s navel, sucking a kiss there before adding teeth and biting a little. Merlin moved a hand to the back of Arthur’s head with a happy sigh, arching forward to let Arthur mouth at him, take whatever he wanted. Even though Arthur wasn’t saying it now—because he probably felt he couldn’t—Merlin would bet anything that he was thinking it, that he was growling _Mine_ in his head. Merlin could practically hear it, could practically feel the throaty vibrations it had caused against his stomach whenever Arthur had done it before.

After Arthur hastily took his own shirt off, he pulled on Merlin’s arms, bringing him down to kiss him again, and shifted his legs a little wider so Merlin fit between them, could grind against him.

“We should move this to a proper bed,” Merlin panted. He gave up kissing Arthur’s mouth for kissing his jaw, below his ear, down to his throat. He drew a circle with his tongue over the bulging vein and Arthur let out a shuddered breath.

“You should get your mouth on my cock,” Arthur gasped. He instantly tensed up. “Fuck, sorry, I have no idea where that came from.”

Merlin chuckled and slid down Arthur’s body, leaving wet kisses on the muscled chest as he went. “It’s alright,” he said, grinning up at Arthur. “I’m used to you being a bossy prat.” He mouthed at Arthur’s stomach as he undid the button of Arthur’s jeans, licking the skin just above where his fingers worked.

Arthur moaned, lifting his hips, partially for Merlin to slide his pants down but also probably because he couldn’t help himself. Merlin hooked his fingers inside the hem, yanking everything down in three quick tugs, just enough to free Arthur’s cock and balls, and kissed the base as soon as it was exposed.

Arthur’s hands had been dug into the sofa cushions, but now one of them flew to Merlin’s hair, his fingers curling tight and urging Merlin on. Merlin jerked his hips at the impatient pulling of his roots, rutting into the sofa a little. Arthur hadn’t been this rough the morning before, had wanted instead to get to know—or rather, relearn—Merlin’s body and skin. But _fuck,_ Merlin had missed this. He rubbed his clothed cock against the sofa again and followed a vein in Arthur’s dick with the tip of his tongue, teasing Arthur just for the pull on his hair again. Only when Arthur dug his heel into the back of Merlin’s thigh and— _yes_ —yanked his hair by the roots one more time did Merlin finally slide Arthur’s length between his lips.

Arthur’s body arched and tensed, his toes cracking as they curled, and Merlin could see the vein in Arthur’s neck pulse in time with his heartbeat. He wrapped a hand around the base of Arthur’s cock, taking him in further before coming back up and sucking the head, and Arthur bit his lip, trying to hold back a choked off sound that escaped anyway.

Usually Merlin would try to hold Arthur down and work at his own pace, but it _had_ been almost five years, so he let Arthur buck up all he liked. Of course Arthur almost apologised the first time he did it, but Merlin rolled his eyes and stared back at him meaningfully, nodding a little when Arthur hitched a questioning brow. Then, Arthur let go, using his hand’s grip on Merlin’s hair to push Merlin’s head down as he gave small jerks of his hips upwards.

Merlin tried to keep his cheeks hollowed and use his tongue as much as possible, but it’d been a while so he felt as though his technique was a little sloppy. Luckily, Arthur didn’t seem to mind, and Merlin could taste more precome as he got closer.

And Arthur tried to warn him, but as usual, he was forgetting that they’d done this already so many times, and that Merlin hadn’t had Arthur’s come on his tongue in ages. Merlin ignored the broken gasps that just barely passed for his name and worked the muscles in his neck faster. When Arthur came, he tensed just as much as he had at the beginning, and shot into Merlin’s mouth with an “Oh God—” spilling from his lips. Merlin waited until the throbbing stopped, swallowed, then licked up the bit that had dripped down the sides.

He was going to just stroke himself quickly while staring at the state of Arthur wrecked and probably halfway asleep to speed things along, but Arthur pushed himself up weakly and reached for him.

“You don’t have—”

“Like hell I don’t,” Arthur said. “C’mere.”

Merlin could’ve laughed— _there_ was his prat of a boyfriend, an arse but nice about it, finally shining through the cracks of whoever the new amnesia Arthur was—but he kept his laughter in and shuffled forward on his knees, straddling Arthur a little. He pulled his cock out of his pants. and curled his fingers around himself, but Arthur swatted him away, licking his palm before taking Merlin in hand and tugging. Merlin leaned on Arthur’s shoulders, breath coming quicker as Arthur got him off.

He didn’t want it to take an embarrassingly long time, and at this point no amount of time would be too short, so Merlin looked down and watched, followed the blur of Arthur’s hand and matched the movement to the subtle twists at the head that made Merlin’s breath hitch. What finally pushed him over wasn’t a twist, or even a thumb to the slit, but Arthur’s other hand on his thigh sliding up to his arse. His jeans weren’t quite tight enough to allow for fingers in the cleft, but they got pretty damn close, and Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, coming on Arthur’s chest.

When he opened his eyes, Arthur was staring at him.

“What?” Merlin asked.

Arthur’s brow furrowed a little, as though he was confused, but mostly he seemed to be staring up in wonder. “I just...don’t get it,” he said. “Even if I was some posh git before, I can’t see how I’d ever want to be just friends with benefits with you. You’re so... _you_.”

It definitely hurt something deep inside of Merlin hearing that, but Merlin pushed the feeling away and leaned forward to plant a kiss on Arthur’s lips. He pulled away after a few seconds, forcing a smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told Arthur. “Don’t think about what we were before. You’ve started over, so I’m starting over too. Everything’s going to be new and perfect.”

Arthur nodded. “Okay. Yeah.”

He pushed himself up more, obviously meaning to move to the bed and sleep, so Merlin let his foot drop to the floor and stood up. Arthur picked up their tops, handing Merlin his, and wiped his chest with his own.

Merlin quickly realised what came next and panicked a little, because he did _not_ want another repeat of the previous night. He wanted to be able to fall asleep like a normal person for once, and not to wake up feeling absolutely terrible, especially on his last day.

“I’m going to—”

“You can tell—” Arthur chuckled. “You go first.”

“I’m gonna get a glass of water before bed,” Merlin said. “Wash out the taste of your come,” he added wryly.

Arthur snorted. “I didn’t say you had to do that, _Mer_ lin, but you seemed ever so eager. Anyways, I was just going to say that you can tell the others about me. Where I am and what happened and everything. We can talk about it more tomorrow before you leave. I’m too tired tonight.”

Merlin nodded. “Okay.”

“‘Okay?’” Arthur repeated with a raised brow. “I thought you’d be a bit more excited.”

Merlin shrugged. He thought he’d be more excited, too. Now it was as though Arthur was simply stating a fact.

“I am excited. I just...I don’t want to leave yet. It feels like it’s been longer than four days, but at the same time it passed really quickly, you know?”

Arthur sighed, raising a hand to cup Merlin’s cheek. “I know. And I don’t have a lot of minutes on my mobile contract but I have unlimited texts so when we can’t hear each other’s voices we can at least send messages. This whole thing is still kind of weird for me, and it’s incredibly frightening even thinking about how quickly it’s all happening, but...it feels right somehow. So if I have to consider moving and leaving Gaius...I will.”

Merlin let out a heavy breath and closed the short distance between them, wrapping his arms around Arthur and hugging him tightly. He wished he could tell Arthur how much he loved him, how much he needed him. Remembering the first year without him just made Merlin clutch tighter, made him never want to let go of Arthur ever again lest he disappear. But Merlin couldn’t say all the things he wanted to, not if they were meant to have been only friends who engaged in an occasional fuck before. So he chanted it in his mind as he clung to Arthur like a half-drowned child, _I love you I love you I love you._

Arthur shuffled on his feet after a few minutes. “I...sort of have to use the toilet, Merlin. But get your glass of water and then we’ll pick this up in bed?”

Merlin stepped back, nodding and smiling sheepishly. He suddenly didn’t want to go to bed, because going to bed would bring the morning here that much faster. But Arthur had to get up and work and he wasn’t going to ask Arthur to stay up with him.

“Okay.”

♦ ♦ ♦

It was both good and bad that Arthur used his lunch break to go to the train station with Merlin. It was good because it gave them more time together, more time to talk and kiss and hold hands. But it was bad because Merlin felt despair settling inside him like a disease, making his bones ache, his stomach churn, and his head pound. He tried as hard as he could not to start crying, but then suddenly the tears just spilled out.

He knew he must have been making some sort of scene, and that people were probably staring, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He cared briefly about what Arthur would think, but that passed as soon as Arthur pulled him close and lowered Merlin’s head to his shoulder where Merlin could muffle his cries.

“It’ll be fine, Merlin,” Arthur said softly. “You have the photo on your mobile. You have my number, my email...It’ll only be until I get everything in order. I’m going to miss you, too. Just be strong, okay?”

Merlin heard Arthur’s words, but he also heard the faint sound of the train approaching, and he gripped Arthur’s coat. _Maybe I can stay,_ he thought. _I’ll ring Nimueh and tell her not to expect me back. I’ll tell Gwen and the others I’ve moved. I’ll live above the shop with Arthur. I won’t go._

Arthur took hold of Merlin’s hands, prying them off gently as the train got closer. “Merlin, I need you to tell me something. Look at me, Merlin.”

Merlin swallowed past the lump in his throat, sniffled, and made himself look up at Arthur. Arthur wiped the tears from his face.

“When you told me about us before, how we’d been friends but we had benefits,” Arthur began. “I asked you if you knew whether or not I wanted anything more and you said you didn’t know. You remember that?”

Merlin’s heart clenched guiltily, but he nodded.

“And then I asked if _you_ had wanted anything more, and you didn’t say anything. Merlin, did you...did you love me? _Do_ you love me?”

Merlin felt equal parts guilty and relieved, and at the same time a weight lifted off his shoulders another one dropped back on because now the train was here and his tears just started up with renewed force.

“Yes,” he sobbed. “I love you, Arthur, I’ve always loved you, and I always will.”

Arthur exhaled and hugged Merlin again, bringing him close. “If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “I think...I feel like I might’ve loved you, too.”

Merlin squeezed Arthur’s waist, determined to hang on as long as he could. There was no way he was leaving now, not after that.

“You have to go now, Merlin,” Arthur said, pushing him toward the train.

“No.”

Arthur tugged at Merlin’s hands, prying them off again. Fuck Arthur and his stupid strength.

“Yes, Merlin. I’m going to visit you soon, remember? I’m going to share your bed and we’re all going to go out for drinks like we used to. We can’t do any of that if you don’t get on the train, Merlin.”

_It won’t be soon enough._

Arthur’s grip tightened on his hands and he forced Merlin toward the train again. “Merlin. Don’t be difficult. This is hard enough as it is.”

Merlin almost tripped backwards onto the train steps. Arthur held him up and shoved his other rucksack into his arms.

“Arthur—”

“It’s not forever, Merlin. It’s not for six months, not even for three months. I promise you’ll see me again.”

Merlin’s lip trembled. Seeing Arthur again wasn’t the problem. The problem was the time in between.

But the train started moving, Merlin along with it, and it was too late.

“I need you,” Merlin said brokenly, tears sliding down his face again.

Arthur’s face pinched and when he blinked there were tears in his eyes as well. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Merlin almost jumped off the train then, right back into Arthur’s arms, but it was moving quicker and someone behind Merlin grabbed his collar and pulled him back roughly. Merlin wanted to scream, wanted to yell _No, you don’t know, you don’t remember, you didn’t see me in the hospital, you haven't seen my scars. How could you possibly know?_

By then, Merlin had been hauled into a seat, asked for his ticket, and Arthur was gone.

♦ ♦ ♦

Merlin had a lot of explaining to do when he got back. He had expected the others to bombard him as soon as he returned, had even sort of expected to find Will waiting for him in his flat, but apparently Lance had made good on his word to speak with them about backing off a bit. When Merlin stepped into his dark, cold flat that night, there was nobody but himself there.

After putting his bags down in his room, he went to the loo, telling himself that it was to use a toilet that wasn’t a dodgy train toilet, but knowing that he was really going to check his medicines cabinet. And after relieving himself, he did open it, unsurprised but still somewhat disappointed to find his razor blades gone.

It was for the best, though. Will had only been doing the right thing.

Merlin felt like absolute shit when he lay down to sleep. He thought about just taking the rest of the week off, because it was really only two days, but that would just be more hours he had to make up later, and it wouldn’t do any good letting them pile up.

So he’d go to work. He’d endure the long hours of dealing with people and technology, and then he'd go round to Lance and Gwen’s. He’d ring Will and tell him to go too, and he’d sit them down and tell them everything. The lies he’d told Arthur, the lies they would need to tell when Arthur came to visit, and what had happened to Arthur’s memory, why he hadn’t come back for four years.

As Merlin unpacked his things, setting his medication down on his nightstand in a row, he thought about maybe taking them again. He had caved and taken a Xanax on the train, if only to stop from crying and shaking and almost bolting for the door to jump off and try to run back, but that had been at the height of emotion, right after the separation. Even though he was still sad now, he should be able to handle everything later. And Arthur had told him to be strong.

This wasn’t depression Merlin was feeling. It was loss. It was sadness. He couldn’t just take prescription drugs like Prozac whenever he felt he needed them; it was either he committed to it or he didn’t, right? Right. What Merlin was feeling now would pass.

Besides, he didn’t want to go back to feeling numb. Even his mother hadn’t liked the person he was then.

No, it was better this way. Merlin finished unpacking, then got himself a drink. He sat on his bed, popped the cap on the Trazodone, then took a pill and went to sleep.

♦ ♦ ♦

“Wait, seriously?” Will exclaimed when Merlin told them the next day. “Why didn’t we hear about it? When he told the landlord he’d moved out and they tossed all his stuff, shouldn’t we have been notified or something?”

Merlin shrugged. “He didn’t mention that bit. I dunno. Maybe he told them to be secretive about it? To prevent word from getting back to us? The police assumed he’d gone missing anyways, remember? He said he’d made a lot of calls, I’m sure it wouldn’t have been difficult to erase his tracks if he tried hard enough. And since we aren’t family...” He shrugged again.

“Is he different? I mean, he’s still Arthur, right? Losing your memory can’t change your personality,” Gwen said.

Merlin made a so-so gesture with his hand. “More or less. He’s still polite at first before being a bit of an arse, but he’s really...I’m not sure how to describe it. It’s like he’s a king that’s forgot he was a king. He’s humble.”

Even Lance laughed at that. “Arthur? Humble?”

“Yeah, I know,” Merlin said. “I don’t think memory loss can change your personality, as Gwen said, but I guess since he’s forgot most of his experiences...Well, experiences sort of shape a person, don’t they?”

“And really, is it so bad that he’s not a proud git anymore?” Will added. “I bet I could beat him in a fight now.”

Merlin snorted. “He’s still strong, Will.”

“Yeah, but he sounds like a wuss. Probably wouldn’t use full strength unless it was a real brawl.”

Merlin shook his head and sighed, chuckling. “Okay, Will.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t tell him about...you know,” Gwen said.

“No. He doesn’t know about any of it, or that I’m medicated. He doesn’t even know we were together before.”

“What?”

“I didn’t want to overwhelm him,” Merlin explained quickly. “I couldn’t just say ‘Hey, I’m the person you were in love with’ and expect him to react calmly. I told him we were mates, and then later, after he had this dream about me, I told him we were friends with benefits. Which, to be fair, was the truth.”

“And how did he take that?” Lance asked.

“He asked if we could have the same benefits again.”

Will guffawed. “Still quick to ask for what he wants, I see. Although honestly, I didn’t think you could even get it up anymore, Merlin, not with your meds and all.”

Merlin had gone silent, not sure how to reply, and was uncomfortably aware of everyone staring at him. He knew it had been on their minds, because the inflections of his voice and his behaviour had probably given him away earlier, but now that it’d been brought up, it was just painfully obvious.

“Merlin,” Gwen began, “you _are_ still taking them, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Of course I am.”

“Merlin.”

“Well, I’m not taking the Xanax. But that says ‘as needed’ anyways, and I don’t need it.”

“There’s no way it’s safe to just stop cold like that, Merlin. Have you talked to Dr Alator about it?”

Merlin bristled. “You’re the one that didn’t want me taking it in the first place,” he reminded her. “You said it was easy to get addicted to, which, by the way, hasn’t happened. And if I felt like I needed to take it, I would take it. I don’t see why I have to talk to a doctor about something that leaves the dosage up to the patient.”

He’d started raising his voice a bit near the end, and his words had definitely been sharp, but it was Merlin’s decision. Even though she and Lance had been paying for everything, from the mental hospital to the appointments to the prescriptions, it was still _his_ decision whether or not to put something in his body.

Lance and Will shared a look, and Gwen seemed about to open her mouth to say something else, so Merlin tried to soften his tone and continued. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll ask him about it at our next appointment. But I promise, I’m fine.”

Merlin did feel fine, or at least not as drastically full of despair as he had been the previous day. Knowing Arthur was only a two-hour train ride away and not just a blank _missing_ helped a lot, as well as talking about him with everyone. Waking up and going to work had been hard, but he’d managed to push nagging thoughts to the back of his mind as the day went on, and now he was with his friends, he felt okay. A little bored and dull, but okay.

“We just want to make sure you don’t do anything to hurt yourself again,” Gwen said finally.

Merlin’s eyes went straight to Will, who looked away and clenched his jaw, but didn’t bring up Merlin’s habit.

“I know. I appreciate all you’ve done for me, really. Spending all this money on me to make sure I’m well. Thank you.”

Gwen reached across the table and took his hand, smiling. “We do it because we care about you, Merlin. You don’t have to thank us.”

Lance cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to call you out on anything,” he began with a concerned look, “but how do you plan on keeping this from Arthur forever? I understand you don’t want him to know about the hospital or what happened before, because he’s Arthur and he would blame himself.”

Will turned back to them. “And with good—”

Gwen kicked Will before he could get the rest of his sentence out.

Lance continued. “But he’s going to find out about your medication sooner or later, don’t you think? Especially if he comes back and moves in with you as you two had been planning before.”

Honestly, Merlin didn’t plan on taking his medication again, not even the Trazodone after he used up what he had now. He also didn’t plan on going to see Alator again, but since he wasn’t paying for anything it was going to be difficult to pull off, so he was still kind of working on that bit.

“Well, eventually I’ll tell him I felt sad and was diagnosed,” Merlin said. “He’ll still blame himself, like you said, but I think that’ll be easier for him to get over than if he hears about me going to the nuthouse for trying to commit suicide.”

Gwen cringed, and even Will frowned a little, but thankfully Lance just nodded. Merlin fought back the urge to roll his eyes. He’d never exactly been so blunt before, and he definitely never referred to the hospital as the nuthouse, even to himself, but for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t they just say it? Why’d they always tiptoe around it? _I slit my wrists in the kitchen! You put me in an asylum! Just fucking say it, you fucking tossers!_

Merlin sighed. “Anyways, Arthur said I could give you his email address. He said that’s the best way of communicating with him, since it’s free.”

“What does he do now?” Gwen asked.

“He works at an antiques shop for the man that helped him. He’s not quite as well off as he used to be. He won’t even send photo messages on his mobile because it’s cheaper. And he does the dishes by _hand_.”

“No fucking way,” Will said in awe. “Tell me you took a photo of him.”

Merlin pulled out his mobile and brought the photo up. “I did. This is him sitting on the stool at the counter in the antiques shop, and the man looking over his shoulder at the notebook is Gaius, the owner.” Merlin handed Will his mobile and Gwen leaned over to look at the screen as well.

“Fucking hell!” Will exclaimed.

“Wow,” Gwen said.

“I mean, yeah, Arthur looks different, but look at all that shit in the background,” Will continued. “That old man’s a hoarder, and he’s just opened a shop to capitalise on it. That’s his story and you can’t tell me otherwise.”

“That’s not exactly how hoarding works, Will. Hoarders don’t _want_ to get rid of their things,” Lance pointed out.

“Shhh.”

“Right, well, the reason I bring up Arthur’s, er, financial situation, is because that kind of makes it hard for him to come visit us,” Merlin said. “And I know this is asking a lot, since you two already pay for so much for me, but—”

“We’d love to!” Gwen said. “A train ticket is nothing, of course we wouldn’t mind. All he has to do is pick a date and it’s done.”

Merlin suddenly felt like he was flying. “Yeah? I told him as much, but I wanted to be absolutely sure.”

Lance nodded. “He’s our mate, too. I feel like you sometimes forget that, but he is. We’ll pay for whatever he needs.”

Will gave Merlin his mobile back, and Merlin pocketed it. “I’ll let him know. And I’ll text you all his email later. Just, um, remember not to—”

“Expose your lies,” Will finished, crossing his arms. “Yeah, we know.”

♦ ♦ ♦

According to Arthur’s texts, he missed Merlin as much as Merlin missed him, but Merlin wasn’t going to channel his inner romance stereotype and say “No I miss _you_ more,” even though he thought that was true. He did let himself send a heart emoticon one time when he was feeling brave, which Arthur responded to with:

_\- youre a complete girl merlin -_

And then a minute later:

_- <3    -_

Merlin may have been smiling the rest of the day.

A week after getting back, he missed his appointment with Alator. Alator called the next day and asked what happened, if something had come up, if Merlin wanted to reschedule. Merlin had said it had honestly just slipped his mind that week, and that no, he didn’t want to reschedule, they could just wait until next month. Which Merlin would then cancel, but Alator didn’t know that yet.

Work was sometimes unbearable, and Merlin was sometimes unbearable with the customers, even to the point where someone once asked to speak to his supervisor because they couldn’t tolerate his attitude. Nimueh didn’t say anything to him, just gave him her piercing glare, and he had to stand there while the man yelled about customer service and common decency and today’s generation thinking they’re so much better than everyone because they can post their shits to Twitter or whatever. It had ended up just making Merlin’s mood worse and he’d stormed out of the store before he choked the man to death. He was pretty sure Nimueh would understand, and he hadn’t got a call so he figured he wasn’t fired just yet.

Merlin had rung Arthur that night, needing to hear his voice to drive out angry thoughts, and felt a lot better after a few minutes talking to him. And after hearing that Arthur had been touching himself while thinking of Merlin every night—something Merlin hadn’t even thought to do yet—things got even better. They’d ended up having a wank together over the phone.

Every time Merlin asked if Arthur had settled a date with Gaius and Gwen for the visit, Arthur had said, “Uh, I’m still thinking about it. I’ll let you know.” And then, somehow, already two and a half weeks had passed since they’d parted tearfully at the train station.

 _That_ was the day Merlin almost got fired. Actually, a lot of things happened that day. His alarm went off, waking him at seven as usual, but after silencing it, he didn’t move again. He thought about it, but the thought came and went quickly, and eventually got lost in the fog of his dazed mind. He wasn’t even really aware of time passing, just stared unblinkingly at the door knob of his closet across the room like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. He was breathing, but other than that he wasn’t really sure he was alive.

Hmm. He wished Arthur was there. But then, he also sort of didn’t care. It would be nice if Arthur was there, but maybe it was better Arthur not see him this way. He wasn’t even sure if he would have moved if Arthur told him to. Arthur would expect him to talk and do normal people things. Merlin didn’t want to do normal people things right now. He wanted to lay in this bed and not move or do anything else, probably for forever.

And, well, he still cared about Arthur. Obviously, he did. If he got a call right then that Arthur had been hit by a car and was in hospital, he’d probably get up and rush there. But if it wasn’t life-threatening...Eh. You know. Whatever.

Merlin only realised he was biting the skin of his wrist when his teeth pinched a thick vein too hard. He made a small noise of surprised pain, and looked down at his bruised wrist in shock. He could see his teeth marks in the pinkened, damp flesh, and suddenly he was a little angry. Not enraged or anything, but severely irritated. Because that wasn’t nearly enough, not even close to what he needed.

Merlin’s heart started beating a little quicker as he saw it in his mind—not a razor blade, but a knife, bigger than for eating with, maybe for cutting vegetables or slicing off pieces of ham. He saw his hand grip the handle, saw himself raise the blade slowly before plunging it down, stabbing his arm and making blood gush everywhere. He gasped and clenched his fists.

The next thing Merlin knew, he was standing in the kitchen, opening the drawer with the forks and knives. He didn’t even remember getting up and walking. That’s when he came to his senses, but not when he stopped himself. He stopped himself when the tip of the blade was already pressed to his nibbled wrist, when he saw that the old scars had pretty much faded. How would he hide the new one from Arthur? It was going to be hard enough hiding the original ones.

Merlin shoved the knife back in the drawer and pushed it closed. Chewing his wrist and whimpering, he walked back to the bedroom to take the temptation away.

He caught sight of the time. How was it already half eight? He _should_ go to work, because he couldn’t miss again so soon, but then, did he really care? Not really.

Merlin sat on the bed, wanting to separate his hands and wrists from his body and throw them at the wall. He wished Arthur was there. He wished there was a way to open his skin without leaving a mark. He wished he could understand why he felt this way.

He spent nearly twenty minutes just sitting on his bed, pinching the veins in his wrists and sighing miserably, before he thought that if he didn’t go to work, he wouldn’t have a bed to sit on at all. Or a place for Arthur to stay if he ever got around to making his mind up on a date. So Merlin forced himself up and got dressed, not able to be bothered with a shower or anything else.

But at work he was just as bad. It wasn’t his attitude as it was before; he didn’t snap at anybody or get overly sarcastic or anything. He just kept sighing in exasperation when someone didn’t understand what he was telling them; he put someone on the phone on hold and then hung up; he just generally didn’t want to be there. Eventually Nimueh pulled him aside and told him to just go home. Merlin was pretty sure he was going to get sacked the next day, but he was so eager to leave, that at the moment, he didn’t care.

The Apple store being in the shopping district, it made sense that Merlin would walk by Boots. What didn’t make sense was the way his feet took him inside without him telling them to, or without even having made a conscious decision. He walked past this shop every day, and every day managed to shut up the little voice telling him to go in. Not today, apparently.

Merlin was on automatic now, and there was no stopping him. The voices had switched, the one that usually whispered having taken charge and yelling _Yes yes yes_ , while the one that usually held him back squeaked uselessly _No no no_. When he got to the shelf with the razor blades and raised his arm to reach for them, he thought briefly about that morning, how he’d stopped himself. But then he thought _Fuck it_ , and sntached the package from the shelf with purpose.

Sometimes Merlin worried if the people behind the counter knew what he was using them for. Today he didn’t care. He didn’t fucking care about _anything_ besides getting home and giving in. So he’d have to wear his wristbands to bed when Arthur came to visit; big fucking deal. It had worked the last time, it would work again.

The walk home was too far and too cold, but Merlin made it, the thought of what he was going to do pushing him on. Why the hell had he resisted for so long? That was so _stupid_ , depriving himself of this pleasure. All it did was drive him mad. And as Merlin’s fingers twitched, itching to open the plastic, he even felt a bit mad.

He was just coherent enough to remember to lock the door behind him when he finally got home, but then he raced to the bathroom, throwing off his jacket on the way. He tore open the package, and the blades clattered onto the glassy surface of the sink. He would put them neatly into the medicine cabinet later, but right now he only needed one. He pulled off his black leather wristband and picked up the blade closest to him.

Merlin paused, taking a few deep breaths, and stared at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t rush through this part; he had to be careful. He held the gaze of his own reflection, telling himself _Slow, Merlin, slow_. He breathed deeper, put his hand palm up on the cold surface, tightened his fingers around the blade, breathed again.

_What would Arthur think?_

Merlin closed his eyes, shaking his head. It was too late now. And Arthur wasn’t going to find out anyways.

_He said he would visit soon. It’s been up to him to tell Gwen the date, and he hasn’t said a word. For all I know I have another two weeks to wait._

Merlin opened his eyes again and pressed the sharp pointed edge all the way to the left side of his wrist, pushing down enough to sting but not moving quite yet. Some—probably fucked up—part of him wanted to savour this moment, the moment where his heart pounded in his chest and his body tingled with excitement. He bit his lip against the pain and did it, dragged the blade straight across the vein.

_Yes, God, that’s so fucking good, oh God, yes_

He exhaled, not having realised he was holding his breath, and watched as the blood leaked out. He put the razor blade down and leaned on the sink, clenching his fist and feeling the wound throb with each pump of his heart.

Some blood got on the white surface beneath, but Merlin would clean that later. Now he licked the excess blood from his wrist so he could see the slice he’d made clearly, and watched as more red beaded up and spilled out of his ivory skin. His spit made it sting and he tasted metal on his tongue.

 _One more_ , Merlin thought as the blood stopped coming as fast. _Just one more. On the other wrist, to make it even._ He snapped off the studded wristband and picked up the razor blade again, running it under the tap briefly to clean it.

This wasn’t his dominant hand, so he always had to apply more pressure. He took a slow breath and repeated the action from before, sliding the thin blade across thin skin again, a little quicker this time.

_Fuck!_

There was too much blood, coming out too fast. Had he overcompensated on the pressure? Had he done it too quickly and unthinkingly? Either way, it didn’t matter now. There was so much blood and it was pouring out, only coming quicker as Merlin’s heartbeat picked up.

 _No, stop, stay in, stay in_ , he thought, panicking. He’d never done this before, never had to put his hand to his wrist and try to keep the blood in. He didn’t know what to do, how to slow it, and he was already feeling light-headed.

_I’m not gonna die, it’s not enough to die, there’s no way it’s enough to kill me, but I definitely might faint..._

Merlin scrambled for loo roll, feeling dizzy from moving so quickly, and wadded it up, pressed it to his wrist. But it was turning red rather rapidly, and it fucking _hurt_. The last time his wrist had been throbbing this bad was...

Suddenly everything was tilting, the edges of his vision going dark. He couldn’t tell which way was up or down or sideways, and he barely felt it when his body hit the hard tile floor.

Then everything went black.

♦ ♦ ♦

Merlin was sore when he woke up. His head most of all, but the right side of his body was tingly and numb, and his wrists ached. He slowly raised a hand to touch where his skull had hit the floor and winced.

He was so weak that sitting upright didn’t seem like an option at the moment, so he rolled onto his back and just lay there. He raised his hands above his face and saw the blood had dried on both wrists, already cracking and flaking off. Even so, the wound on his right wrist was still open and tender, the edges of the gash starting to look infected.

Usually, Merlin let the air harden the cut into a scab overnight, but sometimes—definitely, in this case—he’d have to bandage it. At least it would still ache for a few days and take some of the edge off. And since it was his dominant hand that he used for everything, he’d feel the spike of pain every time he went to do something. Merlin rotated his wrist slowly, swivelling the joint so the sliced skin sealed closed then winked back open with a sharp sting.

He let his arms drop back to the floor, tired of holding them up. It was cold down here. It was hard on his back. He wished he had the strength to move, to at least curl up for warmth, but he didn’t. All he could do was lay here and breathe and stare at the ceiling and worry about his wrist getting infected. He couldn’t do anything. He wasn’t good for anything. He couldn’t even cut himself the right way anymore.

Arthur would say he’s good for something. Arthur would make him laugh and hold him until he stopped shivering and kiss him.

Merlin started crying, tears sliding down into his hair.

“Arthur,” he sobbed. “Arthur. Please.”

Arthur wasn’t there. Arthur couldn’t hear him. It was only Merlin, cold and alone on the floor of his bathroom.

♦ ♦ ♦

Merlin had only just got home from work the next day when his mobile rang. He sighed and reached into his pocket, wondering which of his friends it was this time. They hadn’t done much more than message him in a few days, and he figured one of them was about due.

It was Gwen. Merlin contemplated not answering, but that would only make things worse.

“Yeah?”

“Merlin? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. What is it?”

There was a pause, and then, “Should I come over?”

Merlin toed off his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it onto the sofa. “Why?”

She was hesitating, and Merlin really wished she would just get on with it then leave him alone. “The payment didn’t go through my account for your appointment with Dr Alator. I know you missed it, Merlin.”

Merlin rubbed a tired hand down his face and sighed again. “I forgot. But I already talked with him about it and we’re just going to meet as planned next month.”

She hesitated, _again_ , then repeated her question. “Should I come over?”

 _No, leave me the fuck alone!_ Merlin wanted to scream. Why did she always have to be so involved in everybody’s business, why did she always have to fucking care so much?

“No,” Merlin said, forcing calm into his voice. “That’s okay, I’m okay.”

“Lance told me I should try to give you space, but with you off the Xanax and now the missed appointment, I’m just worried, Merlin. You’d let me know if anything was wrong, wouldn’t you? I know it’s hard having Arthur back but not _really_ having him back, but you would let me know, right?”

“Of course I would.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Look, Gwen, I have to go.”

“Alright, Merlin. Bye.”

Merlin hung up and went to the loo. He had to change the bandage on his wrist after the long day at work.

♦ ♦ ♦

Merlin didn’t know whether to be happy or sad that the next day was Friday. Weekends had been his worst enemy for the past four years, and Merlin hadn’t got around to purchasing any new books lately. He honestly couldn’t say _what_ he’d been doing with his weekends. Mostly it consisted of staring at nothing while time passed.

Arthur texted him more on weekends, so that was nice, but lately it’d been making him feel the lack of Arthur’s presence even more. Sometimes he feigned being too busy to reply. The few times Arthur had rung him, and suggested they wank over the phone again, Merlin hadn’t been in the mood. He’d managed to finish the first time, but the past two times he’d given up halfway through and let Arthur go at it while he waited.

So Merlin wasn’t exactly looking forward to the weekend, not until Arthur suddenly rang him again Friday afternoon on his break.

“Hi, Arthur.”

“I talked to Gwen,” Arthur said right away. Merlin’s stomach flipped. _Shit, what did she say?_ “Actually _talked_ to her, like on the phone, and not in an email. We set up the plans and everything for the visit.”

“You did?!” Merlin nearly shouted, and clamped a hand over his mouth. Nimueh poked her head in from the front of the store and arched an eyebrow. He waved her off, mouthing “sorry.”

“We did. I’m leaving tomorrow morning and arriving by twelve fifteen.” Merlin could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll be staying all the way through the following Sunday.”

“So quickly? Just like that? Not that I’m complaining, just...Wow.”

“Yes, well. She may have expressed some concern for your, er, health.”

Merlin almost couldn’t breathe for a second. Had she gone back on her word and told Arthur after all? But then, if she had, wouldn’t that have been the first thing Arthur had brought up?

“What’d she say?” Merlin asked carefully.

“Just that you’ve been kind of withdrawn and tetchy. She said you really miss me and honestly, I really miss you, too. I figured it’s my fault, so—”

“Arthur—”

“I should’ve tried to come visit sooner. I was just...I was a little scared. Seeing you again, I’m ready for. I can’t _wait_ to see you again. It’s everyone else I’m not sure I can handle. Once you weren’t here to constantly tell me how pleased they’d be to see me, I sort of started having doubts and just...Yeah, I put things off. Not anymore.”

Merlin didn’t know what to say. If Arthur were already here, he wouldn’t have said anything, he would have just thrown his arms around him.

Merlin slumped, resting his head on the table at which he sat. “I wish it was Saturday.”

Arthur chuckled. “Me too. Go to bed early tonight, it’ll come faster.” Someone shouted Arthur’s name in the background. “Sorry, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow, Merlin.”

Merlin smiled. “Bye, Arthur.”

Merlin kept smiling at his mobile even after he’d hung up. Arthur was going to be here. He was going to be here he was going to be here he was going to be here! Merlin couldn’t wait, couldn’t even fathom getting through work now that he was so excited.

“Uh, Merlin?”

Merlin looked up to see Nimueh, thinking he must have been looking rather daft for smiling and staring off into space. “Sorry, yeah?”

“You’re...smiling?”

“I know, I can’t believe it either.”

“I was coming to remind you that your break’s over, but now I have to know.” She walked over and sat at the table across from him. “If you’ll tell me that is. I know we’re not exactly friends.”

Huh. That _was_ a bit weird. Nimueh had been his boss the whole six—wow, almost seven—years he’d worked there, and they’d somehow never even shared a laugh together. Not even before Arthur went missing and Merlin had been more outgoing.

“Well, I’ve always sort of thought of you as more than an acquaintance anyways,” Merlin said. “Maybe not a _friend_ , but...close to it. So, sure, I’ll tell you why I’m smiling.”

Nimueh put her arms on the table and leaned forward, letting Merlin know she was all ears.

“It’s kind of a funny story, actually,” he began. “You remember when I took a year off?”

Nimueh raised a brow. “Because you were in the psychiatric hospital? How is that a funny story?”

“Oh, well, that’s not the funny part. And I guess now that I think about it, none of it is really very funny. But you know why I went to the hospital, right?”

“I assumed from the way you’d been acting months before and then not showing up for work that it was something serious. You don’t go to a place like that if it’s _not_ serious. And your friend Lancelot informed me that you’d lost someone, and would be away to get better, but that was it. I put most of it together by myself.”

Merlin nodded. “It’s probably what you guessed, then.” He tried to get around the next part without giving away that he’d feigned being ill a few days. “Well, I recently found out that the person I’d lost—my boyfriend—is still alive. He lost his memory when he got in a car accident.”

Nimueh gaped. “Wow. That’s...not something you hear every day.”

Merlin shook his head. “Nope. So, to get to the point, I’m smiling because he just rang and said he was coming to visit. If it goes well, he’s going to come back for good.”

Nimueh pursed her lips thoughtfully and nodded. “I see.” She looked down a moment, still nodding, as though she couldn’t stop, then looked back up at Merlin. “I don’t mean to pry even further, but if you’ve known he was alive, why’ve you been acting like...like you were before you took a year off? I would think that’d be something to smile about even before this.”

Merlin lowered his eyes and shrugged a little. “It’s difficult sometimes, I guess. I spent a lot of time thinking he was gone and that I’d never see him again, and then I only saw him a short while before having to come back. It was like being taken out of the dark and dropped in the sunlight only to be thrown into darkness again. It’s frustrating.”

He realised he was probably starting to sound depressing now so he forced himself to perk up, pasting a smile back on his face. “But it’s going to be better now he’s coming back. I _am_ sorry if I’ve been insufferable. I really did try not to be. You’ve been more understanding than I had any right to expect.”

“You’re a good employee, Merlin, for the most part. I get that some of us need to be cut a little extra slack sometimes. As long as you do fine ninety percent of the time...Well, okay, let’s be honest and say eighty percent. Maybe even seventy-five.” Merlin laughed. “I’m willing to let you be a bit insufferable the other fifteen percent. Hell, you could even have a breakdown as long as you do it in here away from the customers. Just keep doing the best you can, and that’s fine with me.”

Merlin exhaled in relief and grinned more genuinely again. “Thanks so much, Nimueh. I could honestly hug you right now.”

“Please don’t hug me, Merlin. Also, your break’s over.”

Merlin rolled his eyes but got up from the table.

♦ ♦ ♦

Merlin couldn’t stop bouncing or fidgeting at the train station. He was anxious and giddy and nervous all at the same time. Will had put his hands on his shoulders and said, “Mate. Calm down,” a few times, but Merlin couldn’t help it. His fingers could already feel Arthur.

Then he got a text.

_\- almost there :) -_

Merlin peered off into the distance, trying to make out the train, but it was too far away. He turned to his friends where they sat on the bench.

“Right, so, remember we were never romantic and as far as he knows we stayed friends with benefits—”

“Yes, Merlin, we know,” Will said.

“We _have_ been emailing him,” Lance added.

Merlin nodded, then focused on Will, giving him his most assertive stare with an equally assertive finger-point. “And no mentioning the mental hospital or anything, no matter how angry you get.”

Will snorted. “‘Or anything.’ Wonder what that means,” he said with a significant glance at Merlin’s wristbands.

Merlin growled. “Will.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Merlin sighed and plopped down on the bench next to him, fists on his knees. He went through everything in his head again: He’d made sure his razor blades were safely tucked in the pocket of a winter coat he didn’t wear anymore hanging in his closet. He’d scrubbed the floor and sink _again_ in case any bloodstains had been left. He’d hid his medicines in a sock that he’d then shoved to the back of his sock drawer. He’d changed the bandage on his wrist one last time, and disposed of the rubbish in the loo, tossing out the old ones. Was there anything he was missing?

No, that was it. Other than the fact that he didn't have much food in his fridge and would have to go shopping, everything seemed to be in order. Merlin's leg started bouncing as the train came in.

He was almost positive his heart was going to jump right out of his chest, and his stomach was absolutely _full_ of butterflies, but he managed not to get up and bolt to the train when it came to a stop. He stood, stuffed his hands under his arms, and chewed his lip, waiting.

People poured out of the train, but Merlin couldn't find Arthur. He scanned the crowd, searching for the blond hair he knew so well. He got another text on his mobile.

_\- i see you -_

Merlin barked out a laugh and thumbed a reply.

_\- where the hell are you? -_

He'd only just sent it when he felt a hand on his shoulder, turning him around. "Hey, Merlin."

Merlin couldn't even be annoyed, he was too happy that Arthur was there, in the flesh again. He threw his arms around him and buried his face in Arthur's neck. The scent of the old shop was still in his skin, on his clothes.

A hand came up to the back of Merlin's head, grabbing a fistful of hair to pull him away just enough to kiss him. Arthur captured his mouth, took his breath away without even using tongue. He held their lips together, suckled Merlin's bottom lip and cradled Merlin's face in his hands.

Merlin didn't want to separate, and didn't plan on letting Will's exaggerated throat-clearing have any effect on him, but Arthur pulled away, blushing with embarrassment. Merlin reluctantly turned back to face them, not letting his arm leave Arthur's waist.

"Sorry," Arthur said, smiling sheepishly. "Hello."

Will stared with wide, disbelieving eyes, not saying anything, and Lance was the first of them to make a move. He held his hand out and smiled.

"Ït's great to see you again, Arthur. I'm sorry about what happened."

Arthur shook his hand. "Thank you. I'm sorry for leaving you all without any explanation."

It seemed even Will couldn't stay in his daze at that. "Yeah, an explanation would've—Ow!" He rubbed his arm where Gwen had elbowed him.

"Forgive him, he's still as rude as ever," she said. She offered her hand and shook with Arthur as well. "It's wonderful to have you back, Arthur."

"Here, let me take one of those," Lance said, taking one of Arthur's bags. "Are you hungry? Do you want to get lunch before we go back to Merlin's?"

"Yes," Merlin said, thinking instantly of Arthur's dismal kitchen in his even more dismal flat. "I haven't eaten anything either, and there's not much in my fridge," he added at Arthur's irritated look. "Trust me, you'll want to take up their offer while you still can."

Arthur shrugged. "Lunch it is, then."

♦ ♦ ♦

It was obvious that Arthur was hungry and trying not to shove everything in his mouth at once. He took large bites and then hovered his fork above the next one in preparation for after he swallowed. It was one of the many little things that kept Merlin smiling through the entire meal.

“So...your hair,” Will began. “Does it spike naturally like that?”

Arthur stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth and let his hand fall back to the table. “Uh, well, at first it did. I sort of just took a pair of scissors to my head because I didn’t like the way it looked and I hated having hair fall in my eyes, and afterwards it wouldn’t lay flat. Now it probably looks that way ‘cause I can’t be arsed to brush it.”

“Right. Great.”

Arthur furrowed his brow at Will’s bitter tone and looked to Merlin.

“He’s just upset that you still don’t have to _try_ to look fit,” Merlin explained. “If he ever wants to look half as good as you, he has to put some effort into it.”

“Oh, shut up, Merlin, I was just curious,” Will said. “I don’t need to look like _him_ to get someone. I have a winning personality.”

“Explains why you’re still single,” Lance muttered.

Will glared at him. “If your wife wasn’t between us, mate, your nose’d be bleeding by now.” Gwen rolled her eyes over the rim of her glass as she sipped her water.

Arthur swallowed his bite. “You don’t look horrible or anything. And you probably don’t act like this much of an annoying twat when you’re trying to flirt. But finding someone you get on with is pretty much all luck.”

“Um. Wow. Thanks, I think.”

“And then, you know, some people don’t find anyone and end up alone.”

“Okay, fuck you.”

Everyone laughed, and Arthur seemed particularly pleased with himself as he shoved more food in his mouth. Merlin took what was probably his ninth bite as he rubbed his leather-clad wrist against his thigh under the table, taking the opportunity of everyone’s distraction to scratch his itch.

But it wasn’t the first time he’d done it that afternoon, and Arthur had apparently picked up on it. He arched a brow, glancing from Merlin’s guilty actions to Merlin’s eyes and back.

Merlin smiled sheepishly, shrugging. “Just gets a bit sweaty under there sometimes,” he explained.

“Of course it does,” Arthur said, a little amused. “Why wear them then?”

“Oh, Merlin’s worn those wristbands for _ages_ ,” Gwen told him. “If there’s one thing Merlin’s known for, it’s his wristbands. The only time I’ve seen him without them was years ago when we went swimming.”

Arthur chuckled. “Did you used to paint your nails black as well?” he asked Merlin.

“Ah, well—”

“He did, actually,” Will supplied. “In uni. And he had all these piercings in his ears. Two in his lip. Even wore eyeliner.”

Arthur almost choked on his food, he laughed so hard. “He told me about the piercings, but...Wow. Seriously?”

Merlin reached for his water, suddenly thirsty. “Don’t listen to him,” he said into his glass.

Will, of course, continued to rub it in. “Oh, Merlin was spectacularly goth and _spectacularly_ gay.”

Arthur gaped, looking between Will and Merlin with wide eyes. “ _Him_? He...You don’t mean he—”

“Slept around a bit? Yep.”

Arthur glanced at Gwen and Lance, but they were grinning into their meals with an air of remembrance.

“Don’t listen to him,” Merlin repeated, glaring at Will. “That was almost ten years ago. Things are different now.”

Will snorted, expression going sour. “Yeah. I know. You’re no fun anymore.”

Lance shot him a warning look. “Will.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Arthur looked confused, like he’d just missed something, so Merlin nudged him and said, “They don’t know anything. I still know how to have fun.”

“Yeah?” Arthur’s mouth curved up in a mischievous smile. “So we can go to a club?”

Merlin grinned. “Of course we can.”

Leave it to Gwen to spoil everything. “Uh, Merlin, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Merlin’s smile faltered, and he was supremely annoyed that Gwen felt the need to say anything, but he kept his countenance as calm as possible. “It’ll be fine, Gwen.”

Will, glad of a reason to elbow Gwen for once, said, “Aw, c’mon Gwen, it’s just one night. When’s the last time we went out, huh?”

“Are you not supposed to go to clubs or something?” Arthur asked Merlin.

“No, I can, I’m just...a bit of a lightweight when it comes to alcohol.” Which was true, though the reason Gwen didn’t want him drinking was because she thought he was still taking Prozac. “They’re just worried I’ll do something stupid, like stumble into heavy traffic. But really, it’s fine. We can go whenever you want, though you’ll probably want tonight to settle in.”

“And by ‘settle in’ he means ‘fuck like rabbits,’” Will said, smirking.

Merlin sighed. “Thank you, Will, I think he got that.”

Arthur laughed. “Tomorrow night, then? Unless that doesn’t work for you all, since the next day’s Monday—”

“It’s not a problem for me,” Will declared. “And hey, even if I’m just the third wheel, it’s still a club. I’d be happy to go either way.”

“We can go,” Gwen said, checking with Lance quickly, who nodded. “Sure waking up will be hell, but it’s not every day your mate comes back. And we haven’t gone out in _so_ long. It’ll be fun.”

Arthur smiled, clearly trying not to look too happy as he lowered his fork for another bite. “Great.”

♦ ♦ ♦

The first thing Arthur said when Merlin flicked the light on in his flat was, “Whoa.”

Merlin scanned the ordinary living room, trying to see it as Arthur saw it. “What?”

Arthur stepped slowly in, looking around with eyes that got wider and wider as each second passed. Merlin closed the door and put Arthur’s second bag down on the sofa, watching him warily. Had Arthur remembered?

Arthur stood in front of the wall by the corridor, touching it with the flat of his hand. “I remember this wall,” he said quietly. He grinned a little, looking back over his shoulder at Merlin. “You fucked me against this wall.”

Merlin laughed and nodded. “I did.”

Arthur’s grin turned devious and he spread his feet further apart, raising his arms to the wall and pushing his arse back like he had years ago. “Wanna do it again?”

Merlin’s stomach jumped and he felt a definite stirring in his jeans as he crossed the room to press up against Arthur from behind. Arthur’s breath hitched.

“I’d love to, Arthur,” Merlin said. He hadn’t heard his own voice so hoarse from arousal in ages, and it was doing things to him, going to his head. “But I figure it’s been just as long for you as it was for me. Let’s do it in the bed first, we’ve got all week to get creative.”

“Alright,” Arthur said, spinning around and kissing him suddenly. “There’s lube in that bag you put on the sofa.”

♦ ♦ ♦

It was weird, but a good weird. It felt like the past few weeks hadn’t happened, like Merlin hadn’t broken down in the loo a few days ago, or spent countless mornings considering not moving at all. There was a moment of “oh yeah, that happened” when their clothes came off and Merlin briefly panicked about his wristbands, but Arthur was just as preoccupied with haste as he was, and didn’t notice that Merlin kept them on.

He wasn’t entirely prepared for the sensation of sliding into such amazing heat after almost five years, but then, Arthur had been impatient with the fingering and probably wasn’t entirely prepared either. He groaned as Merlin pushed in, and Merlin stayed still a minute after burying himself completely, needing the time to climb down from the edge and pull himself together.

He was glad they were doing this facing away from each other. He didn’t think he would cry again, but he was grateful not to have Arthur’s eyes staring up at him as he took deep, even breaths. Not just because of the need to hold off his orgasm, but also because of the knowledge that Arthur was _there_ , in his flat, in his bed, with Merlin’s cock inside him as his arms trembled with the weight of holding himself up. Because of the knowledge that Arthur really was back and probably would be for good.

Merlin pulled out a bit and gave an experimental thrust, slow and not too deep. He did it again and again, easing his way into it, until Arthur was pushing back and they’d found a balance, struck up a pace that had their skin slapping and their breaths coming in sharp gasps. As Merlin dug his thumbs into the fleshy globes of Arthur’s arse, thrusting with forceful jerks of his hips, it was like he’d never been depressed in the first place, like he’d never lost Arthur to begin with. He forgot everything but the slide of his cock plunging inside, the clench of Arthur’s tight hole, the building heat in his groin that threatened to push him over the edge remarkably soon. He felt like himself again, normal and happy, like he’d been before any of this happened. Everything was in its right place.

Merlin leaned forward, lowering himself to Arthur’s back to feel more of Arthur’s skin against his. He rested his forehead on Arthur’s left shoulder as he slowed his pace, relinquishing speed so he could give forceful thrusts of his hips instead. He forced a low grunt from the both of them every time his cock buried completely, and soon enough Arthur caught on to his rhythm, pushed his arse back to meet Merlin halfway.

Suddenly fingers were in Merlin’s hair, tugging and urging Merlin to raise his head. Merlin looked up and immediately had Arthur’s tongue in his mouth, a bit sloppy from the angle of Arthur’s turned head, but no less satisfying. He met Arthur’s tongue with his own, battling it for dominance.

“Touch me,” Arthur panted.

Merlin wasn’t sure he had the coordination between kissing and fucking, but he raised a hand to Arthur’s cock nonetheless, trying to stroke in time with his thrusts. It seemed to be working because Arthur moaned into his mouth, and in the midst of everything else Merlin could feel Arthur’s cock thicken and harden even more.

And then it was throbbing in Merlin’s hand, and Arthur could do nothing but gasp into Merlin’s mouth as he came. His arse tightened on Merlin’s cock and Merlin let himself go, gave a few more hard jerks of his hips and finally tumbled over the edge after him.

He pulled out one last time and fell onto his side, Arthur collapsing with a heavy exhale next to him. He felt high. He felt giddy. Merlin laughed breathlessly, enjoying it more when Arthur joined him.

He stopped laughing when Arthur reached over and intertwined their fingers. Then he just smiled happily, drowning in Arthur’s eyes.

Arthur didn’t have to say anything. Merlin had missed him, too.

♦ ♦ ♦

They spent Sunday oscillating between trying to jog Arthur’s memory and getting Arthur reacquainted with his old friends. It was obvious he was still a bit shy around them, but he was Arthur so he was ridiculously smooth about it. Merlin and the others knew him though, and saw right through the act, mostly due to the fact that Arthur rarely relaxed his posture.

It was a good thing that he was clearly most comfortable next to Merlin, because Merlin planned on keeping as close proximity as possible during the week-long stay. The only times he and Arthur stopped touching was when one of them used the loo.

“It might help if I saw a photo,” Arthur said when they asked him yet _another_ question while standing in the kitchen. Merlin had figured since he’d remembered fucking by the wall, there might be other things in the flat that ignited a spark. As of yet, no such luck.

Merlin glanced at his friends nervously before landing back on Arthur. “A photo?”

Arthur nodded slowly, brows raised as though Merlin were daft. “Yes, Merlin, a photo. If not saved on someone’s mobile, surely in a folder on a computer somewhere.”

There were no photos. Not even a Facebook or a Twitter or anything. Lancelot had erased Arthur from physical and digital existence when Merlin went to the hospital. It had been for the best, but now it was proving problematic.

“Well, the thing is—”

“Actually, I do have a few photos,” Lance said. Merlin looked at him, surprised. “I put it all on a memory stick. When it looked like you weren’t coming back, we sort of tried to get rid of anything that might make it more difficult for us, but I couldn’t just delete it forever. I’ll show it to you when you come round later.”

Arthur looked pleased. “Alright.”

There was a brief pause, and it had started to stretch into awkwardness when Lance suddenly said, “Merlin, can I speak with you for a moment?” Merlin could guess what it was about, and followed Lance to the living room.

“Yeah?” Merlin said once they were alone.

“The photos, Merlin. It’s obvious you and Arthur are together in them. It’s not that much of a problem, since I can just move the ones that are more...affectionate to another folder. But do we really want Arthur to remember everything? How’s he going to take it when he finds out all of us lied?”

“Obviously he won’t take it well at first, but he’ll know we did it for him. I’ve considered this carefully, Lance, and Arthur doesn’t want to know if he left someone behind after not returning. Don’t you think I’ve wanted to tell him a thousand times? If I didn’t think it was in his best interests, I would have.”

Lance frowned and shifted from one foot to the other. “I don’t know, Merlin. This doesn’t feel right. I think...we should tell him. Before he remembers and has a reason to be more upset.”

“Lance, it’s going to destroy him. You know how he is when he blames himself for something.”

“Not if you’re there,” Lance insisted. “You’ve always helped him get past things like that.”

“Yes, but this time it’s something he’s done _to_ me. It’s different.”

“So just tell him it’s alright and he’s forgiven. There are loads of little things Gwen has said that have hurt my feelings but I tell her it’s alright. Because she never _means_ to hurt me and I know that. It’s the same thing. Tell Arthur he’s forgiven and that you’re fine.”

Merlin clenched his jaw. “We both know I’m not fine, Lance. He doesn’t know about me being on meds right now, but when he finds out? When he puts the two together? It’s one thing for me to tell him I was sad and missed his friendship, it’s completely different for him to know he left behind a lover. Every time I swallow a pill, how do you think he’ll feel knowing he did that to me? We can’t tell him.”

“Merlin, think about this, would you? Are we trying to get him to remember or not? Because if we show him those photos, or if he suddenly gets all his memories back, he’s going to end up feeling like that regardless. And it’s only going to be worse because you tried to hide it from him. He’ll think you still blame him and didn’t want him to know.”

“So, what, you don’t want him to remember anything? You don’t even want to try?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying if we are going to try to jog his memory, we should be honest about the past, because it’s going to come to light no matter what. But if you don’t want to tell him, we shouldn’t bother trying to get him to remember. It’ll only be trouble for us later.”

Merlin didn’t want to see the sense in Lance’s words, but he did. He hadn’t even cared that much before if Arthur remembered or not, because they had been doing a brilliant job at just starting over. He supposed he _still_ didn’t mind if Arthur never fully recovered his memories, but after the incident with the wall, he had just been so excited and eager to see how much more Arthur could recall. He’d lost sight of the consequences.

“Okay,” Merlin sighed at last. “We’ll just...keep him in the dark, then. We won’t try to get him to remember. And honestly, the photos probably won’t do anything. I doubt he’ll get more than a flicker of a moment.”

Lance looked at him oddly, a bit like Merlin had dealt him a mortal blow and had been betrayed.

“What?” Merlin asked. He wanted to get back to Arthur, but Lance’s look was weird, and if Lance didn’t agree with his course of action, Merlin wasn’t sure what he’d have to do to get the man to understand.

Lance shook his head sadly. “That’s not the answer I was looking for.”

“Well what did you ex—”

“You weren’t always a liar, Merlin. I’ve come to terms with the fact that you’ve changed, but—”

“Is this about what Will said yesterday? About you all missing who I was? Because you know that was _uni_ and—”

“Merlin. No. This isn’t about who you were before Arthur. After you were put on those pills, it was like you had the light sucked out of you. You weren’t Merlin. And now, it’s like...” Lance gestured to him, encompassing his whole body. “It’s like you’re not on them anymore, but you still aren’t Merlin. You’re lying, you’re making _us_ lie, and it’s just not you. I can understand a bit of change, but I never thought you’d suffer from some...some moral decline.”

Merlin didn’t know whether to be angry or sad. He supposed he was equal parts both, and both were at such high levels that it made pressure build behind his eyes, threatening tears. He only wanted things to go back to normal, and he’d thought his friends understood that. If they’d truly seen what he was like, how he’d been, then they knew how much this meant to him. His light had come back after being hidden away in a shop for four years, but they couldn’t just be happy for him, no, they had to question his actions and his character. They had to keep bringing up his illness and dragging him back down. He’d thought they would _get_ it, and the fact that they didn’t made him angrier than words could express.

But it also saddened him. Is that really what they thought of him, some morally corrupt man trying to twist Arthur to his will? Maybe it was just Lance and Gwen, being overly noble and good-hearted as always. Will didn’t think him horrible did he?

Merlin’s eyes weren’t crying, but they had definitely started to shine with incoming tears, or at least Merlin figured they had, because Lance stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “Merlin, you know I didn’t mean—”

Merlin shrugged the hand off and shoved Lance away, making him stumble backwards in shock. “Fuck you, Lance,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “I know exactly who I am, and I’m still me. I may be a little different, but the same could happen to anyone. People change. I spent over four years with my head under water, and now I just want things to be normal again. If you understood that, you’d understand why I have to lie to him. Why _we_ have to lie to him.”

There was loud coughing coming from the kitchen that sounded an awful lot like Will, so Merlin knew his voice had probably started to carry a bit. He glared at Lance a few more seconds to make sure his point had got across, then spun on his heel to return to the kitchen. He’d smoothed his features into a neutral mask by the time he’d glued himself to Arthur’s side again.

“It’s getting dark,” Merlin observed airily. “We should probably eat something before going to the club, yeah?”

♦ ♦ ♦

Halfway through dinner, Arthur had suddenly slapped his forehead and let out a quiet “Oh,” which he wouldn’t explain to anyone, but did ask if they could stop by Merlin’s flat afterwards because he’d forgot something. Gwen had said that was fine, she wanted to change into something more club-worthy anyway, and they could all just meet up later. Merlin had pressed Arthur to say something more, but Arthur just smiled and shook his head silently.

Merlin should have known it would be nothing good. When they returned home and Arthur pulled a yellow shirt out of his bag, Merlin had flat out said, “No.”

“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur replied, incongruously delighted by Merlin’s response. “You’re wearing this to the club and that’s final.”

Merlin touched the cotton shirt, rubbing it between his thumb and fingers. Oh God, it was _thin._

“Arthur, it’s...it’s sleeveless. I’ll freeze.”

“I figured you’d have a problem wearing something this bright, so I thought you could wear a black button-down or something on top of it. You’d just leave the buttons undone, see?”

“Great, you’re a fashion designer now. And I’m going to look like a fucking bee.”

“Put it on, Merlin,” Arthur instructed, pushing the shirt into Merlin’s chest. “I promise you won’t care that much once you’re pissed.”

Merlin pouted in misery but began taking his shirt off to put on the yellow one. He felt stupid wearing it. It was probably the smallest size available, and clung to Merlin’s torso in a way that just emphasised how ugly his rail thin body was. The circle of the collar was low, and he felt like his collarbones were making him look like a skeleton. At least it wasn’t a v-neck.

And Merlin didn’t even want to think about how his arms looked. Honestly, a sleeveless yellow cotton top? He was glad he’d be able to put something over it.

Merlin wrapped his arms around his stomach self-consciously as he turned to face Arthur. “This is the worst yellow shirt you could have possibly picked,” he muttered. He was rather certain Arthur had got it from the girls’ section.

Arthur stared at him with wide eyes, his gaze flickering over Merlin’s form. He didn’t say anything for almost a full minute, and that just made Merlin feel worse.

“Um. Wow,” Arthur finally said. “I didn’t think it would be quite that tight on you. And yellow is definitely not your colour, but...Wow.”

Right, that was it. Merlin started taking it off.

“No, no, stop!” Arthur came forward and stilled Merlin’s hands. “I like it. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. It looks good on you. It looks... _really_ good on you.”

“Oh.”

Arthur’s hands travelled up Merlin’s arms, over the protruding collarbones, and down the flat plane of Merlin’s chest until they were at his waist again. Merlin held his breath at the slow appreciation. _Oh_.

“I wish you didn’t have to put something over it,” Arthur said a little hoarsely. “But you’re right, you’ll freeze. Maybe once you get a bit sweaty and drunk I can convince you to take it off,” he added with a crooked grin.

Merlin gave him a playful shove. “Doubtful.”

It wasn’t just that Merlin didn’t think he’d be getting too drunk, but also that he didn’t plan on doing much dancing. He’d been able to dance and let loose at clubs before, had been as wild as the rest of them, but he really just couldn’t see himself doing that anymore. Maybe it did mean that he wasn’t as fun as he used to be, but dancing in a loud, sweaty mass of bodies? Merlin would stay at a table somewhere and pass.

Arthur seemed to know what he was thinking already. “You know you’re going to dance, Merlin,” he said, raising his brows meaningfully. “You _know_ I’m not going to let you abandon me with those people I barely even know.”

“You do know them! Even if you don’t remember knowing them you’ve been emailing them for weeks.”

“It’s different. And regardless, I want you close to me. So don’t even think about trying to sit out.”

“Can’t you sit out with me?”

“Ugh, no, that’s so _boring_ ,” Arthur groaned. “I’ve done nothing even remotely as fun for almost five _years_ , with no one but a few old men for company.”

Merlin sighed. Arthur would pull that on him, wouldn’t he?

“Look, Merlin, it’s only a few hours. We’re not staying the whole night or anything, especially with you lot having to go to work. So it’s really only a few minutes you’ll have to indulge me, and the rest of the time I’ll sit and get pissed with you. Sound fair?”

Merlin grumbled. He didn’t want to dance _at all_.

Arthur’s hands lowered to Merlin’s arse all of a sudden and pulled him closer, bringing their bodies together. Merlin almost toppled over from the quickness of it, but grabbed hold of Arthur’s shoulders at the last second to steady himself.

And then Arthur’s voice was in his ear, low and breathy. “It would mean so much to me, Merlin,” he drawled smoothly, making Merlin shudder. “I promise to reward you.”

Merlin felt a flick of tongue over his earlobe, and then Arthur’s lips taking it in and giving a little suck. Merlin whimpered and his hips seemed to jerk forward automatically. For someone who’d just been asking if something sounded fair, he sure wasn’t playing fair now.

Merlin could _feel_ Arthur grinning. “You won’t want to do anything more than fall into bed when we get back,” he continued. “And then you’ll have to go _right_ to work in the morning. But as soon as you get home tomorrow, I’ll drop to my knees and—”

“Okay, yes, okay! I’ll dance with you, whatever you want,” Merlin gave in.

Arthur stepped back, smiling victoriously. “Great. You’ll see, Merlin, it won’t be so bad. Now, fetch a top to put over that so we can get going.”

♦ ♦ ♦

Merlin was glad that the social norm called for drinks to come before dancing. There was no way he would have got up and embarrassed himself otherwise, no matter what Arthur promised. Within the first forty-five minutes, Merlin was pleasantly tipsy.

Gwen, Will, Lance, and Arthur were positively plastered, though. They’d started throwing them back the second the drinks hit the table. Merlin longed to join in, but even drunk, Gwen managed to shoot him warning glares every time Arthur pushed a glass his way and told him to stop being a wimp.

So it wasn’t until Lance pulled Gwen up to dance that Merlin could have a proper go. He took three shots in a row, grinning satisfactorily and wiping his chin as Will and Arthur cheered.

“Alright, now, no more for a few minutes, you skeleton, you,” Arthur slurred. “In fact, let me distract you.” He made a lunge for Merlin’s lips, ended up bumping his nose painfully, but then captured Merlin’s mouth, pulling him closer with a hand around Merlin’s neck.

Will gagged. “I’m off to find a fit bird with an arse I can rub against,” he said. “Try not to choke on each other’s tongues!”

The spirits had kicked in, making Merlin a little light-headed, so he hadn’t really heard Will’s parting words, but he did somewhat register that they were alone at the table now. Arthur realised it as well, because his hand slid up Merlin’s shirt and he pushed his tongue into Merlin’s mouth. Merlin moaned, darting his own tongue out before taking Arthur’s hand and moving it down between his legs. Arthur didn’t hesitate to squeeze.

Merlin grew hard fairly quickly, and then Arthur was rubbing his hand over the bulge in Merlin’s jeans as he kept fucking Merlin’s mouth with his tongue. Merlin was sure Arthur was just as hard, but he preferred to touch Arthur’s chest, his arms, all those fucking muscles that he’d never get tired of running his hands over.

He didn’t even think to say no when Arthur suddenly pulled him off the leather seat and into the crowd. He just didn’t want to stop touching Arthur, didn’t want to lose body contact for even a second, and he quickly realised that the large group of people surrounding them forced close proximity, giving them the perfect excuse to grind against each other. Arthur’s hands fell to Merlin’s arse like they had earlier, only this time they started kneading it, and he kissed Merlin sloppily as he practically frotted him right then and there.

Merlin couldn’t believe he’d been hesitant about this before. It was a bit like making love to an external rhythm, going with the flow of whatever pace the music set. He had forgot how much he’d enjoyed it.

The snogging bit didn’t last long, since the people jostling them had a tendency to make their teeth clash together, so after a while it was just dancing. And now that Merlin was out here, he found it didn’t really bother him. He was aware of other people there, but it was as though he and Arthur were in their own world, and Merlin forgot everything else but the press of Arthur’s body and the flashing lights blinking over Arthur’s smiling face. He felt like he was flying and he was happy. He even forgot about the dreadful yellow shirt he’d started sweating through.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour that they danced, but Merlin couldn’t really keep track of time in his current mindset, nor could he keep track by number of songs that had passed, because the DJ’s set was one long electric mix that never seemed to end. But an hour definitely seemed a reasonable amount of time to go by, and that was when Arthur yelled in Merlin’s ear, “My feet are killing me! And I have to pee!”

“Me too!” Merlin yelled back. “Let’s find the toilets!”

Merlin almost fell down once there was no crowd pushing on him to hold him up, and stumbled into the loo. Arthur laughed and grabbed his arm, keeping him upright while he found his balance. He had to keep a hand on the wall while he relieved himself, the wound under his right wristband throbbing from all the friction it had endured throughout the night.

As he washed his hands, he peeked under it to make sure it hadn’t opened up and started bleeding. He was just sober enough to stop what he was doing when Arthur joined him at the wash basin, and moved over to dry his hands.

“Let’s see if anyone took our table,” Arthur said, grabbing Merlin’s shirt and pulling him out in the club again.

It looked like two people snogging had taken over their table, but then Merlin looked closer and saw that it was Will. The girl he was kissing was some brunette with curly hair and boobs about to pop out of her shirt, and it sort of seemed like he was about to choke on _her_ tongue.

Merlin was surprised they even noticed when he and Arthur slid onto the leather seat next to them. But Will actually turned away, smiling brilliantly and pointed to her.

“Wouldya look at her?” he said excitedly. “Her name’s Emma. Ain’t that a sexy name? Ain’t she brilliant?” He cupped one of her breasts and started squeezing it, at which she smiled. “Fuck, she’s more than brilliant.”

Merlin laughed. “Like Emma Watson!”

Emma giggled, but Will looked lost.

“Hermione, love,” she told him in a surprisingly clear voice. “From Harry Potter?”

“Oh. That makes sense. These tits are fuckin’ _magical_. You won’t slap me if I ask if they’re real, will you?”

Emma didn’t slap him. She slid her hand down his chest and squeezed his cock, smiling wickedly. “Oh yeah. They’re real.”

Will moaned at the ceiling. “Oh God, please marry me.” And then they were swapping spit again.

Arthur apparently decided a challenge had been issued, because not two seconds later, Merlin’s head was being turned to face him. He put his hand on Merlin’s cock as well, and then they were right back where they’d been before they’d got up to dance.

Gwen and Lancelot finally made a reappearance what felt like five minutes after, saying it was getting late. Arthur groaned but pulled away from Merlin to slide out of the seat.

“You’re leaving already?” Emma asked Will, disappointed.

“Don’t worry, I’m just a barman and don’t have to be anywhere early like these killjoys,” he told her. He waved them off. “Go on without me. I’m staying here with the love of my life.” Gwen rolled her eyes but Lance smiled and gave him two thumbs up.

“Come on, we’ll share a taxi,” Gwen said, grabbing Arthur’s sleeve so they wouldn’t be separated. Merlin wasn’t too sad to leave. He was actually grinning rather dopily. He wondered when they’d get to do this again.

♦ ♦ ♦

Merlin didn’t want to get out of bed the next morning, but he was fairly certain it wasn’t his usual bout of lethargy, just the fact that his head was pounding and he was still knackered beyond belief.

He didn’t know how he managed to drag himself out from under Arthur’s heavy arm and into the shower, but he did manage it. He forwent shaving, taking paracetamol instead—leaving some for Arthur as well—before brushing his teeth and going to work.

He’d honestly forgot that Arthur had promised him a reward. He’d ended up having such a fun and rewarding time himself, it had slipped his mind. But he soon remembered when he walked in after work and saw Arthur peeking his head around the corner of the corridor, a devious grin on his face. Merlin only had a chance to say “Oh right” before he was pressed up against the door and kissed within an inch of his life. Arthur pushed a hand down his pants and coaxed him to a quick half-hardness, then slid down his body, undid his trousers, and took his cock between perfectly puckered lips.

Merlin’s head fell back against the door as he jerked his hips forward. “Fuck,” he moaned. “‘I missed you’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

The entire week was like that, actually. Merlin would get home from work, see Arthur on the sofa watching telly or reading one of Merlin’s books, and then they’d have sex. Arthur was much more confident in his relationship with Merlin by then, and had no trouble declaring what he wanted to do. He wanted to relearn Merlin’s body, see which sensations produced what sounds. He insisted they fuck in all their old positions around the flat, to fill in his lost memories with new ones. Starting with the wall.

Merlin was only too happy to do that. He was also happy that Arthur hadn’t thought to ask about the wristbands, that even in the dull moments where they just lay together, Arthur seemed to have disregarded them completely, considering them just another part of Merlin. Merlin was so content, he would have forgot as well, were it not for the constant reminder in the shower every morning.

Even at work, Merlin was much better. There were still many times he’d feel a wave of sudden heaviness in his chest, and times when he nearly snapped at a customer, but for the most part he couldn’t be bothered with the occasional snob, not when he knew he had Arthur waiting for him at home.

A few times, during a slow period in the day, he’d look around and think about what Arthur had said about leaving the Apple store and doing something worthwhile. Arthur had brought it up again on Tuesday, when they’d gone round to Lance and Gwen’s to look at the photos. Gwen had kept her mouth shut, not wanting to give away Merlin’s actual reason, but truthfully, Merlin couldn’t think of a reason not to anymore. Sure he’d miss Nimueh, and a new boss would certainly not be as forgiving, but with his thirtieth birthday coming up, he might as well go for it. He hadn’t designed or done anything creative in a while, but he bet he still could if he tried. He wouldn’t tell anyone he was considering it just yet, because it was still only an idea, but he was excited.

The Tuesday visit didn’t just make Merlin start thinking about getting back into graphic design, though. It also made him realise how much easier Arthur was talking to the others now, getting more friendly with them. Seeing the photos may not have stirred up any memories—as expected—but it did make him relax a bit more and let his guard down.

Arthur also enjoyed seeing his younger self, because it was much more visual than his timeline at home. As promised, Lance had kept his word and taken out any photos that suggested a romantic relationship between them. There were a few with Arthur’s arm over Merlin’s shoulder, and some with Merlin whispering something in Arthur’s ear to make him laugh, but for the most part they just seemed like really touchy-feely friends. Which would make sense from Arthur’s point of view, considering he was under the impression they’d been fucking anyway.

Friday came much too soon for Merlin’s liking. He was sitting on the worktop in the kitchen considering dinner options with Arthur—well, they were actually just snogging—when the realisation hit that Arthur would be leaving in only two days. He wrapped his legs around Arthur’s waist and deepened the kiss, fighting back the swell of panic.

The sound of the front door opening replaced panic with irritation, and he wanted to kill whichever of their friends deemed it appropriate to just let themselves into his flat this time. He already had a pretty good idea of which friend it was, too.

“Hey, anyone here?” Will called out. “I have good news!”

Merlin groaned and separated from Arthur, hopping off the worktop. “I’ll make him leave. Stay here and keep thinking about dinner.”

“But it’s no fun thinking about dinner alone,” Arthur whined in mock complaint. “And anyway, since when does Will have a key?”

“I must have left it unlocked by accident. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Will caught sight of Merlin, his already smiling face stretched wider. “Merlin, guess what. You remember that girl from the club?”

“Will, you tosser, you can’t just let yourself in here whenever you feel like it!” Merlin hissed.

Will’s smile faltered. “Calm down, mate, it’s not like you were having sex or anything.”

“What if we had been?”

“Oh come _on_ , would you just let me tell you my good news?”

Merlin couldn’t really explain it, but that made him angry. Arthur was going to leave in two days, and Will was coming round with good news, like Merlin didn’t have bigger things to worry about.

He ignored Will and held out his palm. “Give me the key.”

Will’s face did finally darken at that, his smile fading. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Merlin. Listen, I’m sorry if it upset you, but I just wanted to tell you in person. I’ll knock next time, okay? There’s no need to make a big deal out of it.”

“I’m _not_ making a big deal out of it. _You’re_ making a big deal out of it. Just give me the fucking key and leave.”

Suddenly, Will got angry. Very angry. “You’re so fucking selfish, you know that? Not everything revolves around you and your precious Arthur. We all have our own lives with our own problems, too. But what do you care, your life is _so_ miserable, everyone else’s just falls short in comparison. God forbid someone come by to tell you they might actually be happy.”

Merlin was so furious that he didn’t think, he just acted. He grabbed a fistful of Will’s shirt and shook him, because he needed _something_ to clench his fist around and he needed Will to get the idea. “I’m not fucking playing around with you, Will. Either give me the key or don’t, but if you don’t leave right now I’m going to end up hurting you. You really don’t wanna talk to me that way.”

Will gaped in shock, and Merlin almost laughed at how stupid he looked. But then Will said, “I fucking knew it. You stopped taking your meds.”

“Will,” Merlin growled.

“That’s why Arthur hasn’t said anything yet. Gwen said he’d see them any day now, and told us all to be ready with this big ‘it’s not your fault’ speech, but it makes sense.”

“I _am_ taking them. I’m going to tell Arthur later. Don’t change the subject. Give me the key and leave.”

“Tell me what later?” Merlin let go of Will and spun around. His stomach jumped into his throat when he saw Arthur standing there. All his anger fled at once and shifted into nerves. “So Will does have a key?”

_Fuck, oh fuck, not now, not like this._

“Uh...”

Arthur looked between them, obviously waiting for one of them to say something, but luckily Will was staying silent, at least for now.

“What’s going on?” Arthur asked, frowning. “Why’d you lie about the key? What are you going to tell me later? Merlin!”

Merlin chewed his lip, avoiding Arthur’s gaze with his heart pounding in his chest. He sort of felt like he couldn’t breathe, not with Arthur looking at him, expecting him to say something. And he couldn’t come up with another suitable lie when he felt panic gripping him.

He turned to Will, hoping that Will would forgive his angry actions at least for the moment, but Will seemed to be locked in a staring contest with Arthur, looking very much as though he was about to tell Arthur everything.

Arthur asked again, this time much more threateningly, and with more dagger-sharp purpose in his voice than Merlin had heard in years. He’d forgot how frightening it was.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he demanded of them, keeping his eyes fixed on Will.

“Merlin said it was for your own good,” Will caved.

Anger came rushing back and Merlin stifled the urge to slap him. “Shut up!”

“He should know!”

“Should know what?” Arthur asked.

Merlin pointed toward the door, his arm shaking with checked rage. “Get out.”

Will clenched his jaw and stood his ground. “No. I’m tired of keeping secrets for you, Merlin. I’m tired of worrying about you and not being able to tell anyone. And I’m tired of having to keep track of all the lies.”

Merlin couldn’t stop himself. He wasn’t sure he entirely wanted to anymore. All he knew was that his arms were trembling uncontrollably and he wanted Will to shut up.

So Merlin punched him.

It hurt his knuckles more than he’d expected it too, but it felt good. Part of him was sorry, part of him wanted to do it again. But Will’s hand was clutching his jaw, the force of the blow having knocked him to his knees, and even this upset, Merlin wouldn’t hit someone who was already down. Still, he couldn’t get his arms to stop shaking, and kept his hands balled into fists.

Merlin had expected Will to look up at him when he finally raised his eyes, but it was Arthur he looked at as he got to his feet. His lip was bleeding.

“Arthur,” he said gruffly, “hold Merlin.”

Merlin had almost completely forgot about Arthur. He hadn’t noticed much in his rage after punching Will, which was odd considering it was because he wanted to keep Arthur in the dark that they were here in the first place. But he remembered Arthur now, and looked over his shoulder to see him staring wide-eyed and confused at the both of them.

“What?”

Will licked his lips, clearing them of blood. “If you care about him at all, grab his arms and don’t let go.”

The force with which Merlin’s heart started pumping was almost painful. The last time he’d been restrained by his arms was in the mental hospital, and he wasn’t going to go through that, not again. He panicked, stepping away from Arthur as fast as he could, but Arthur was quicker. He was stronger.

“W-Will,” Merlin began warily, forcing calm into his voice. “What are you doing?”

Will rubbed his jaw, opening his mouth wide and stretching it before replying. “You know, everyone thinks I’m stupid. Everyone thinks I’m just some idiot barman who’s annoying and doesn’t know anything.”

“What?”

“I’m not stupid. It’s the others who’re blind. I know you, Merlin. You probably stopped taking your meds the day after you saw Arthur. Probably thought you didn’t need them since your perfect blond prince was back.”

Anger flared up in Merlin again and he lunged forward, only to be held back by Arthur. Who the hell did Will think he was, having the man he _loved_ keep him restrained like this, just so he could throw Merlin’s lies in his face? Merlin was going to kill him, he was going to _kill him_.

“Don’t do this, Will,” he said through his teeth. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.”

“I will. I’m going to do what everyone should have done the second they heard about you meeting Arthur. I’m going to tell Alator. About _everything_.”

“No! Don’t you dare!”

Merlin tried to get free again as Will went to the door. He screamed for Arthur to let go of him, even elbowed Arthur in the stomach and stomped on his feet. He did everything he could think of, but Arthur wouldn’t budge, didn’t seem to be affected by anything, just like those merciless brutes at the hospital.

Will hadn’t left yet. For some reason he’d lingered with his hand on the doorknob, staring at Merlin struggling with a look of pity and disappointment on his face. Maybe there was hope. Maybe if Merlin just changed his tactics, went for sympathy instead...

“Will, please,” Merlin begged, pleaded, letting himself go limp. “Please, _please_ don’t do this. I’ll take my meds again, I promise. You don’t need to bring Alator into this. Please.”

Will looked unfazed, and when he opened the door, Merlin knew it was a lost cause. “It’s for your own good, Merlin,” he said. “And for the love of God, Arthur, look under his fucking wristbands.”

Merlin screamed. How dare Will reveal even that, the last of his secrets? He had no right, no reason other than to make Merlin more upset than he already was. How dare he have Arthur hold him, to make his escape and call that stupid doctor who was just going to prescribe him some stupid pills to prevent him from feeling again? How _fucking_ dare he!

It was no use struggling to get free now, though. Merlin stopped fighting and sank to his knees, his anger morphing rapidly into despair. Everything he’d tried so hard to keep hidden was going to be revealed. Everything was ruined. Arthur would probably leave that night and wouldn’t ever come back.

Merlin started sobbing.

Satisfied that Merlin was done being aggressive, Arthur knelt beside him. “Merlin,” he said, voice gentle but firm. “Please tell me what’s going on. What the hell just happened? Who’s Alator?”

It was no use lying. Nothing was of any use anymore.

“I lied,” Merlin said through his tears. “I lied to you. Please don’t be angry.”

“That much is obvious. What did you lie about?”

Merlin didn’t even know where to begin. It felt like he’d lied about everything to everyone. He didn’t even know when he’d started lying in the first place.

When Merlin didn’t reply right away, Arthur reached down to touch Merlin’s leather wristband. Merlin jerked away.

“Can we sit on the sofa?” Merlin asked, sniffling.

“Okay.”

Arthur helped Merlin up, guiding him to the sofa.

Merlin took a deep, unsteady breath. His throat was a little raw from screaming. He would’ve liked a drink, but it probably wasn’t the right time. It would only stall for a few minutes.

He may as well start with the first lie he told Arthur. Everything else would follow eventually.

“I lied about what we were before,” Merlin said. “We _were_ friends with benefits, but only for about six months. We’d been dating for a little over two years when your accident happened. We’d been...we’d been in love.” Merlin chanced a look up at Arthur and saw he was furious, his face red and getting redder. “I wanted to tell you but—”

“I told you when I first met you that I didn’t want anyone taking advantage of me. And that’s exactly what you did, Merlin. You fabricated some story to fill in the blank space in my head. You gave me this entirely false past to suit your own needs!”

“I did it for you! You almost asked me once if you’d been in a relationship and then you said that you didn’t want to know. That it was for the best.”

“That’s because I didn’t think it was you! I figured you would have told me!”

“Either way, I knew it would hurt you. You were already feeling so guilty about not coming back, I knew you’d hate yourself if you found out what happened to me. If you—if you found out what I did.”

That seemed to simmer Arthur’s rage a bit. “What are you talking about? What did you do?”

Merlin dropped his gaze. His hands were still shaking, but now it was more from nerves than from some strange uncontrollable tic. He wasn’t ready to tell Arthur, but he supposed he would never be ready.

“After you went missing, I didn’t take it very well. The first month or two I was optimistic that you’d turn up, but then your birthday passed and I became doubtful. I was always sad and crying and yelling at people to leave me alone. I stopped eating, stopped going to work, stopped caring about everything. I couldn’t sleep at night.

“The others were there for me, of course, but I just wanted to be by myself. Then nine months after you disappeared, after Christmas and New Year and my birthday having gone by, I got worse. I thought if I let Will come over like he’d been wanting to, if I let him try to cheer me up with beer and video games, I’d feel better. Not for good, but at least for a little while.”

 _Calm down, Merlin_ , he told himself when the shaking became a little too much. _You can do this. Just say it._

“It didn’t work. I left Will in the living room and went to the kitchen because I needed some space. I couldn’t handle trying to put on an act for him and pretending to be happy. It was too much, and I didn’t see the point anymore if you weren’t coming back so I just...I took a knife and I...”

Arthur’s knuckles cracked and Merlin looked over to see his fists clenched on his knees, his eyes squeezed shut and his lips thinned into a tight line. Merlin could stop here if he wanted. He could just wrap it up by saying he’d been put on meds and make that the end of it. He didn’t have to go into detail from start to finish.

“Keep going,” Arthur said. He forced his eyes open, looking at Merlin in clear agony. “Tell me everything.”

Merlin sighed. So much for avoidance.

“I woke up the next day in the hospital,” he continued. “I was so angry. I yelled at the nurses and the doctors to just let me die. I told them it was my decision and they had no right to deprive me of it. They said I didn’t know what I wanted, that I wasn’t in my right mind. I told them I knew perfectly well what I wanted, and that I’d do it again, do a much better job of it. So they moved me to a psychiatric hospital.”

Merlin still shuddered at the memory. “It was horrible. The first few months were the worst. When I wasn’t depressed and crying, I was angry and screaming. I wouldn’t talk to any of the doctors, and I got violent a few times. The last half of my stay they settled on a diagnosis and put me on medication. Trazodone for insomnia, Prozac for depression, and Xanax for anxiety. I was so...so numb, it’s like I wasn’t even there. I learnt how to block out the pain and make myself go on. As long as I stayed doped up, I was fine, so that’s what I did.”

Merlin dared to look Arthur’s way once more, and this time saw that he was shaking a little now too, breathing heavily and seeming a bit like he was going to cry. Merlin jerked away again when Arthur suddenly reached out for his wrist, but this time made himself relax, and let Arthur slowly slide the leather band off, then the studded one.

It was weird having his wrists bared, having someone stare at the scars. Seeing them there, fresh and old lines crosshatched over each other, Merlin felt more ugly than ever. He tried to turn his wrists face-down, but Arthur held them.

“If you were fine, why did you do this?” Arthur asked.

Merlin clenched his fists, and that just made the scars dance over the centre veins. “I liked being numb most of the time. It made things easier, even if I wasn’t someone people wanted to be around,” he explained. He didn’t miss the subtle downward twitch of Arthur’s mouth. “But sometimes I needed to feel something. I needed some sort of emotion to let go of some tension. Opening myself up and seeing the blood come out just felt...good. It felt liberating. Like a weight off my shoulders. I liked feeling something again, even if it was only more pain.”

Merlin saw Arthur grit his teeth. “And now?” Arthur demanded. “If you haven’t taken your medication and you aren’t numb, why’d you do these? _These_ aren’t old, Merlin.”

Merlin looked down, ashamed. “I wanted to. It...still feels good.”

Arthur let go of Merlin’s wrists, putting his head in his hands and groaning. “What have I done?”

Merlin opened his mouth to tell Arthur that that was exactly the reason why he didn’t say anything in the first place, but Arthur spoke first.

“It has to stop,” he said. “The cutting has to stop, and you have to start taking your meds again.”

_But I don’t want to stop._

Merlin didn’t say that. He hadn’t thought about cutting the entire time Arthur had been here. Maybe he wouldn’t again, though he really couldn’t be sure.

He nodded. “Okay.”

Arthur’s hands bracketed Merlin’s face, forcing him to look in his eyes. “I’m serious, Merlin. No more lies. I’m going to throw out those wristbands and you’re not going to hide anything ever again.”

 _Shoulder?_ Merlin thought. _Armpit? Back of the knee? Heel? Yes, heel. Heels and ankles. Socks cover heels and ankles._

“Okay.”

But apparently Arthur saw through that as well. He pulled Merlin up off the sofa, and Merlin only barely noticed a tear falling from his eye before he said, “Show me. Whatever you use to do it, show me.”

Merlin started panicking. “I’ll throw them out later. Don’t you—Don’t you trust me?”

Arthur blinked and another tear fell, but his voice came out cold. “Right now? Not really.”

Merlin’s heart felt like it had shrivelled. He wanted to plead for forgiveness, but this was Arthur, and pleading wouldn’t do anything. He had assumed Arthur ignorant and easy to fool because of his amnesia, but Arthur was still Arthur underneath, no matter how changed. Only actions would prove Merlin worthy again, and that would take time.

And not only Arthur, but everyone else. Merlin had probably lost everyone’s trust, since Will had almost certainly told them by now if he’d told Alator.

“Show me!” Arthur repeated.

Merlin hurried to the bedroom, Arthur following with a hand still on Merlin's arm. He opened the closet and reached into the pocket of the large coat he’d hidden the razor blades in, pulling out three and holding them in his palm.

Arthur stared at Merlin evenly, looking from the shiny silver in Merlin's hand to Merlin’s unblinking eyes. He sighed and reached into the pocket himself. Merlin’s stomach twisted as Arthur took out the rest, even checking the other pocket just in case. He avoided Arthur’s gaze because he was sure to find disappointment and anger.

“And the medication?” Arthur asked, taking the blades from Merlin’s hand.

Merlin chewed his lip. He couldn’t even think about the medication right now. Was Arthur going to leave him again? He had told Merlin not to lie, and had said he’d throw out Merlin’s wristbands as though he planned on staying, but Merlin wasn’t sure based on how Arthur was acting now.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said. “Not just for the...the cutting. For the lying. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you, I know, but I thought it was better because I knew you’d blame—”

“The medication, Merlin.”

Merlin cringed. He walked over to his chest of drawers and opened the top, reaching into the back to find the sock with his pill bottles inside. He was about to pull them out and set them down one by one when there was a knock on the front door.

“That’s probably Alator,” Merlin said. Arthur raised a brow. “My psychiatrist.”

“I guess you ought to bring those with you then.”

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm again and led him back to the living room. Merlin wasn’t exactly sure what Arthur thought he was going to do. Run out of the flat as soon as the door opened?

Merlin sat on the sofa as Arthur answered the door. His heart started beating a little quicker as soon as he saw his doctor, and running out of the flat suddenly didn’t seem such a ludicrous idea after all.

“You must be Arthur Pendragon,” Alator stated in his clear voice. He held out his hand and greeted Arthur. “I wish we could have met under better circumstances. I understand there’s a bit of a situation.”

“It would seem so.”

Arthur opened his other palm, revealing the razor blades. Alator nodded. “Ah. I see.” The next time he looked up, it was right at Merlin, his gaze like a searing brand in its accusation. “Hello, Merlin.”

Merlin swallowed. He wanted to disappear.

Alator walked further in, sitting on the armchair beside the sofa. It was weird seeing him in this setting, without his notepad. Then Arthur sat down beside Merlin, and Merlin couldn’t focus on the weirdness, only on the fact that Arthur was here, was going to learn just how fucked up Merlin was right from his psychiatrist himself.

“Can you...wait in the bedroom?” Merlin asked.

Arthur didn’t reply to him, but to Alator. “I’d like to stay if that’s alright. If it’s not confidential.”

“It usually would be, but seeing as how his wellbeing is at risk, I think we can make an exception this once.”

Merlin sighed. Brilliant. They probably thought he was suicidal again.

Alator cleared his throat and held out his hands. “May I see?”

Merlin pretended not to understand at first, but Alator stared at him unwaveringly, and Arthur was watching him as well, so he finally gave in and showed the man his wrists. Alator held Merlin’s hands and rubbed his thumbs lightly over the scars.

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully. “You told me you’d stopped almost two years ago. There’s many more since the last time.”

Merlin stayed silent, letting him continue his observation and feeling like a specimen on a lab table. He tried not to think about Arthur sitting next to him.

Alator tapped the one on Merlin’s right wrist, the one that was still healing. “This looks like it was deep,” he commented. It was obviously a question.

“It was. I...fainted.”

Merlin heard Arthur’s small intake of breath and forced himself not to glance at him.

“When did you do it?” Alator asked.

“Um.” All the days had blurred together, really. Was it a Wednesday? “I guess almost two weeks ago. It was a few days before Arthur said he was going to visit. I’d wanted to before then, but I knew it’d be hard to hide once I started seeing Arthur again, so I kept stopping myself. But Arthur hadn’t said anything about visiting at that point and it seemed like he wouldn’t for a while so I just thought, well, why not. I don’t usually slip up and make myself faint. I’m not stupid. I usually have a lot more control.”

Alator let go of Merlin’s hands and Merlin turned them face-down again, hiding the scars before looking at Arthur quickly and back to the doctor. Arthur had leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, and one of his legs was bouncing up and down.

“You stopped taking your medication,” Alator said. It was a statement more than a question.

“I didn’t need it anymore,” Merlin said. Alator stared at him, saying nothing. “Well, I didn’t think I did. There was no reason for me to be depressed anymore because I’d found Arthur. The depression went away.”

Alator shook his head. “No, Merlin. Unfortunately, your type of depression does not go away.”

“Why the hell not?”

“It’s a mental illness, Merlin. It’s not uncommon for a traumatic event—such as the loss of a loved one—to trigger an onset. It’s a chemical imbalance that must be treated, otherwise the symptoms will make themselves known again. Surely you experienced some sort of withdrawal symptoms after stopping so abruptly?”

Merlin tried to think, but didn’t really have a good memory for those sorts of things.

Alator listed off some to help. “Lethargy, insomnia, nausea, irritability, tremors in your limbs, dizziness? Any of those?”

“I’ve sort of had insomnia the whole time,” Merlin said. “But I guess irritability. I got really angry and, er, emotional a few times. And, uh, lethargy? That’s when you don’t feel like doing anything, right?”

“It is.”

“Well, then that too. Not really nausea or dizziness. Not sure about tremors. Is that like losing control of your arms? They wouldn’t stop shaking sometimes.”

“And you didn’t think any of this was weird?” Alator asked.

“No...”

“Merlin,” Alator said seriously, somehow much more seriously than he said everything else. “You know you’re going to have to start taking the medication again.”

Merlin wrapped his arms around his stomach, trying to make himself small. “Can I...you know...please not? I’m fine now. This whole week I’ve been fine.”

Arthur spoke for the first time in a few minutes, saying nothing but Merlin’s name, in that insufferable tone he always did. “ _Mer_ lin.”

Oh great, he’d forgot Arthur was against him, too. _Don’t cry, don’t cry_ , he told himself. But he felt something a little like panic rising again.

“I don’t want to go back to being numb,” Merlin pleaded. “Even my mum hated me. She told me to go home, and it was her _birthday_. And...and how am I supposed to love Arthur if I can’t feel anything?”

“The Prozac treating the depression wasn’t doing that to you,” Alator explained. “The Xanax for anxiety was. We could try a lower dosage and eventually get you off it for good if that’s what you want—”

“That’s what I want.”

“But the Prozac and Trazodone will most likely remain the same.”

“So...so that’s it? I’m broken and I can’t be fixed? I just keep patching myself up daily with drugs?”

Arthur put a hand on Merlin’s leg, lowering his voice to a whisper this time. “Merlin.”

Merlin ignored him, thrusting his wrists out again. “The drugs aren’t going to fix this!” he yelled. “I’m still going to want to do this, I know I will.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Alator said. “Right now, I want to make sure you start taking the medication again.” Merlin pulled his arms back in and pouted, not caring if he looked like a child. Alator turned to Arthur. “I trust you’ll keep him from hurting himself until our next formal appointment.”

Merlin knew Arthur wouldn’t be in the city that long. He was leaving in two days and probably not coming back. But Arthur was nodding beside him, his resolve seemingly already fixed.

“I will.” He looked at Merlin, taking Merlin’s hand in his. “I’m not leaving you again.”

♦ ♦ ♦

Lance had been surprised about the cutting, but he’d figured that Merlin had more secrets than he was letting on, and was unsurprised about Merlin having gone off his meds entirely. Gwen had cried, as expected, and slapped Merlin’s arm repeatedly, asking how he could do such a thing. As time passed and Arthur settled back into their lives, Merlin thought it did seem rather stupid, a grown man needing to do something like _that_ to ease his suffering. The elastic band he’d shoved into his pocket—and lost, naturally—had made a lot more sense, and Merlin couldn’t help comparing himself to a teenage girl, thinking it all a bit pathetic.

That didn’t stop Merlin from biting his wrists or having to fight the urge, but it certainly put things in perspective. With his medication back in his system—thankfully not enough Xanax to make him nearly as numb as before—and with Arthur’s help, Merlin found ways to distract himself.

He started with a new job. It wasn’t an instantaneous thing, but after sitting down with Gwen and discussing it, as well as trying his hand at some advert designs to get back into the swing of things, he decided he did want to leave the Apple store after all. Nearly a month after punching Will, and after two interviews, he’d said goodbye to Nimueh and started working at Gwen’s company.

Arthur was the best distraction of all though. Merlin’s excitement at having Arthur back wore off at the same time the novelty did, but he was still content most of the time. And with his meds, Merlin was rarely so sad he couldn’t push himself out of bed or wanted to cut again. But on the rare moments that Merlin did suddenly feel a wave of urgency to break open his skin, Arthur was there. He would kiss Merlin’s wrists and suggest they watch a film, or that Merlin tell him one of the stories from their two-year romance, stories he still hadn’t remembered. And Merlin couldn’t bear to hurt himself in a place Arthur had kissed, not when he remembered the gentle press of lips to his skin and the flutter of Arthur’s eyelashes as he looked up at him. He couldn’t bear to hurt himself _anywhere_ , because it would also hurt Arthur.

By the time two months passed, Merlin’s thirtieth birthday having come and gone in late January, Merlin had started feeling _right_ again. He still didn’t really like having to rely on drugs, and he felt a little twinge of guilt every time he swallowed a pill in front of Arthur, but after everything that had happened, Merlin realised the effects of _not_ taking them were much worse than any resentful feelings. Alator had said that one day Merlin may be off even the Prozac for good, so he just had to keep looking forward to that. In the meantime, he was simply grateful he’d begun to feel like his old self again.

The only thing left really was Arthur’s memory. Merlin had long come to terms with the fact that Arthur may not ever remember, and telling Arthur stories of their past did help in his weaker moments, but there was always a lingering hope in the back of Merlin’s mind that Arthur would suddenly wake up and recall everything. It didn’t even have to be everything, it could just be whatever the hell he’d been thinking when he got up and left in the middle of the night five years ago.

Despite the lingering hope, Merlin didn’t actually believe Arthur would remember anything else. If the photos and stories hadn’t jogged his memory, nothing could. So Merlin was suitably thrilled when Arthur finally did remember one day in February.

The day had started like any other. Merlin had gone to work and Arthur had stayed home, but when Merlin returned, walking toward the bedroom and looking for Arthur, he heard what sounded like porn coming from behind the door. He furrowed his brow, already chuckling a little as he pushed the door open.

He’d expected to see Arthur in front of the iPad Merlin had got for his birthday—not very original, no, and actually Arthur used it more than Merlin—but Arthur was sitting on the edge of the bed looking at a video camera. What he was watching was definitely having an effect on him, but he seemed more awed than aroused, staring at the small screen intently.

And then Merlin realised: that was _Arthur’s_ old video camera.

“Where the hell’d you find that?” Merlin asked, startling Arthur and making him jump. He went to sit next to Arthur on the bed, and saw pretty much what he’d expected to see, his own naked form laying on his back, sweaty and moaning from Arthur fucking him. He felt a pull in his groin and blushed.

“I was going through the closet, trying to find more space for my clothes,” Arthur said. “It was on the shelf, way in the back corner. It was all dusty and I didn’t even think it would turn on.”

On the screen, Arthur’s hand grabbed Merlin’s cock and started stroking him quickly. Merlin keened, arching his spine and saying, _“Yeah, oh God yeah Arthur, faster.”_

“You went through a bit of a phase,” Merlin said over the digital moaning and slapping of flesh. “You wanted to record _everything_ for about a month. Then you got bored. I thought this had been at your old flat all this time, and that Lance had thrown it out with everything else.”

In the video, Merlin came, and Arthur grunted, spilling inside him. The present Arthur skipped ahead to the next video.

 _“I’m not even doing anything, I’m just eating,”_  Merlin said. His mouth was full of some sort of pasta, and he slurped a long noodle into his mouth.

 _“And here we see the stereotypical emo in his natural habitat,”_ Arthur had narrated. _“In about three seconds, he’ll roll his eyes and call his gorgeous boyfriend a prat. Three, two_ —”

 _“Oh fuck off, Arthur.”_ But Merlin had indeed rolled his eyes.

Arthur laughed at the same time the one in the video did. Merlin smiled, sliding closer to see the screen better, and ended up putting his head on Arthur’s shoulder for the best view. He hardly remembered that day. He’d almost completely forgot about Arthur’s recording phase.

The video of Merlin eating cut off and then there was a view of Arthur from the waist down. He was fiddling with the camera, putting it in place somewhere that looked like on top of the TV in his old living room. He took a few steps back and messed with the zoom while consulting the screen, until he was sitting on the sofa and in plain sight of the lens. He put the remote for the camera under his mail on the coffee table just as Merlin let himself into the flat.

 _“Hey,”_ Merlin greeted him. After a few seconds he came into view too, sitting on Arthur’s lap on the sofa and kissing him hello.

“Oh God, not this,” Merlin said. “I hated this.”

“Then we definitely have to finish watching it,” Arthur replied, grinning. “And if I know anything about myself, I think I’m going to enjoy it.”

Merlin groaned. Of course Arthur would say that. On the small screen, Merlin slid to his knees in front of the sofa, relocating to between Arthur’s legs. He undid Arthur’s jeans and Arthur lifted his hips, pulling them down until they were around his ankles.

“It was like some bad porno,” Merlin said miserably. “I can’t believe I didn’t suspect when you just randomly asked me to suck your cock.”

“Shh.”

Merlin sighed and watched himself take Arthur in, the back of his head starting to bob up and down. Jesus, he couldn’t believe how big his ears looked from behind. They didn’t really turn outwards that much, did they?

Arthur’s head fell back on the sofa as he placed a hand on Merlin’s head, urging him on. _“God, that’s good,”_ he said with a sigh. _“I swear, I’m never going to get tired of your mouth, Merlin.”_

One of Merlin’s hands slid up Arthur’s chest, raising his shirt, while the other presumably stayed wrapped around the base of Arthur’s cock. Arthur moaned and jerked his hips up.

 _“God yeah, fucking touch me, you filthy thing_. _”_

“I did _not_ say that,” Arthur said, blushing furiously.

Merlin laughed. “You said that. I’m pretty sure you said some other things as well...”

“Okay, next.” Arthur switched to the next video frantically. Merlin laughed again.

The next video started out with Arthur walking into the bedroom from the corridor. It was the same bedroom they were in now, but it was early morning, the light shining in through the curtains and making the room fade from grey to yellow. Merlin was sleeping in the bed, the only part of him visible so far being the top of his head on the pillow.

Merlin didn’t remember this, but then, he had been sleeping. He wondered why Arthur never showed him this video.

Arthur walked around, kneeling by the bed and letting the camera linger on Merlin’s face. Merlin thought Arthur might do something else, might suddenly yell and wake Merlin up, or pinch his nose or something, but after about a minute, the only thing Arthur did was reach out and stroke Merlin’s face.

In his sleep, Merlin didn’t react much. He made a little mewling noise, but that could have very well been from a dream. Arthur kept stroking his face, light enough not to wake him, and then eventually moved up to his hair.

After about five minutes of nothing but Merlin sleeping, Merlin realised there _was_ nothing more to this video, and he started getting a bit choked up. He’d been doing well not becoming emotional over little things, but now there was a lump in his throat, and the tenderness of Arthur’s previous actions were making it hard for him to breathe.

The Arthur beside him suddenly said, “Oh my God.”

“Yeah,” Merlin remarked, forcing some firmness into his voice. “You were a creep with that camera.”

On screen, Merlin’s eyes fluttered, and suddenly he was out of view, nothing but the floor and the dust beneath the bed showing up.

 _“Arthur?”_ Merlin yawned. _“What time is it?”_ The video ended, and that was the last one.

“No,” Arthur said, closing the camera and shaking his head. “I mean. I remember. Not everything, but I remember doing that. I remember loving you. Oh God, how could I forget loving you?”

Merlin’s pulse quickened and he sat up, raising his head from Arthur’s shoulder. The videos had helped him remember? Not the photos, not the stories, but the videos? What if they watched them again? What if more memories came back?

Arthur looked up and touched Merlin’s face, cradling it and stroking Merlin’s cheek with his thumb like he had in the recording.

“You were my Merlin. I said I’d always love you. And then I forgot.”

Merlin’s heart was in his throat from all the excitement. “I _am_ your Merlin. And it doesn’t matter that you forgot. You’re here now.”

Merlin had suspected Arthur still carried some blame, even though Arthur was always careful not to show it. What more could Merlin possibly do to show Arthur that he was forgiven?

Arthur still looked guilty a moment, but then he nodded. “That’s not all I remember. I remember why I left that night. I finally, _finally_ know why I got up and started driving like a madman in the first place.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. This was more than he could’ve ever hoped for. “Why?”

Suddenly Arthur smiled. “Your mother lived closer then, right? Only two hours away by car. I was going to see her—”

“My _mum_? In the middle of the night?” What the hell had Arthur wanted with Merlin’s mother? They’d only met twice and Merlin doubted she would’ve liked being woken at such an ungodly hour.

“I wanted to surprise you. Because it had only just come to me and you know how impulsive I was. The _last_ thing I thought would happen was that I’d get into an accident. But Merlin, I was...I was going to ask her for your father’s ring. I was going to ask you to marry me.”

Merlin jumped to his feet and gaped down at Arthur incredulously. “ _What?_ ”

Arthur bolted up, putting his hands on Merlin’s shoulders excitedly. “I know, I know, it’s mad, isn’t it? But that’s it, that’s the reason.” He laughed a bit hysterically. “Oh my God, that’s the reason!”

Merlin felt a bit dizzy, and raised a hand to his head. Arthur had wanted to marry him? Had gone to ask his mother for his dead father’s ring just so he could surprise Merlin with a proposal? It _did_ seem mad, and was almost too much to process all at once. But it was Arthur; the snap decision had young Arthur written all over it.

“You wanted to...All this time...”

Arthur laughed again. “Yes, Merlin. Yes.”

A short chuckle escaped Merlin’s lips. It shouldn’t have been funny. It should have been tragic. Merlin had endured years of depression and self-harm—was still recovering from it, in fact—and Arthur had endured amnesia and nagging guilt, but Arthur was standing in front of him now, and they’d made it here, full circle. Arthur had regained his memories, or at least some of them, and now he was saying he’d wanted to marry Merlin all those years ago. Merlin hadn’t even let Arthur move in with him yet back then, but Arthur had got up in the middle of the night because he wanted to _marry_ him.

It was a bit humourous.

“I can’t believe it,” Merlin said. “Even after we’re married, I won’t be able to believe it.”

Arthur’s grin got impossibly wider and suddenly he wrapped his arms around Merlin’s thin waist and lifted him up, spinning him around in delight.

“Arthur!”

Arthur stopped spinning, but didn’t set Merlin down. He stayed smiling up at him, obviously too pleased for words.

“It’s lucky your mother forgave me for everything at Christmas, otherwise I don’t think she’d approve, let alone give me her husband’s old ring,” Arthur said.

“You know this means you’ll have to talk to _your_ family, too,” Merlin pointed out. “I told you you couldn’t avoid them forever, and there’s no way I’m marrying Uther’s son without him knowing you’re even alive. He’d hire someone to have me killed.”

“Yes, fine, fine. Gaius has his number and I can ring him later. We’ll tell everyone later.”

“Why not now?”

Arthur’s grin morphed into something more devious and he turned towards the bed, plopping Merlin on top of it.

“Because, _Mer_ lin, those videos have left me in a state, and we’re going to reenact some of them first.”

Merlin couldn’t argue with that. He’d waited five years to marry Arthur; he could wait a bit longer.

“Well get up here and fuck me then, Mr Emrys-Pendragon,” he said filthily, spreading his legs.

Arthur laughed and slid up Merlin’s body. “Please, Merlin. Pendragon-Emrys.”

Merlin just rolled his eyes as Arthur kissed him.


End file.
